Cold as Ice
by Emmithar
Summary: Greg and Sara want nothing more than to be back out in the field, but Grissom is holding them back until they agree to a seminar up in the mountains. It seemed like a good idea that was until people started showing up dead without any real reason. Greg a
1. Default Chapter

**Cold as Ice**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **R

**Summary: **Greg and Sara want nothing more than to be back out in the field, but Grissom is holding them back until they agree to a seminar up in the mountains. It seemed like a good idea; that was until people started showing up dead without any real reason. Greg and Sara must keep their wits about them as they search for answers, and at the same time confide in each other in order to find closure to their own terrifying experience.

**Warnings: **Attempted Rape later on in the story, nothing graphic, may have some Sara/Greg fluff.

**Disclaimer: **All recognizable characters are not mine, however all the others are, please ask before using.

**A/N: **This is the sequel to 'Just a Quick Stop' but I don't think it's necessary to have read the story in order to understand this one. Referencing is made to the first story throughout this one though.

* * *

**Chapter One: Seminar**

It was near the end of his shift that he returned to the locker room. Greg felt weary; rubbing his temples as he dropped his head into his hands. He shouldn't be tired; he had been getting plenty of rest lately, eating well, and work had certainly been easy. Grissom wouldn't see it any other way.

Ever since coming back, Grissom had both Sara and him working on easy cases. Robberies, burglaries, other types of similar cases. When and even if they did work on a homicide case, they didn't leave the lab. Grissom had called it their reentry program, a suggestion made by the therapist they had seen after the pair had gotten out of the hospital.

Even though it was easy work, Greg still felt frustrated. He wanted to get back out in the field. He hadn't done all that work to become a CSI only to end back up in the lab. Perhaps that was why he was so tired.

This was where Sara found him, in the same position as well. She smiled softly, coming in to the room, knowing that he wasn't aware of her presence yet. She knocked lightly on the door, causing him to jump slightly.

"Sorry," she apologized, coming to sit next to him on the bench.

"Hey," he stated softly, still trying to shake off the surprise. He reached over to open his locker, pulling out a change of socks and his regular shoes. He wore a different pair for work, more appropriate, Warrick had told him. Didn't mean he liked them. They hurt his feet. Greg winced as he pulled the plain brown shoes off, tossing them into his locker.

"You headed anywhere?" Sara asked him after a moment of silence.

Greg shrugged, pulling on the fresh socks, "Home more in likely. Why?"

Sara didn't respond; only watch him lace his shoes up, first one, then the other.

Greg raised an eyebrow as he finished, "You okay?"

"You know what day it is?" She asked instead of answering.

Greg grew silent, shaking his head, "Tuesday?"

Sara let out a sigh, "It's been six months now," she nearly whispered.

It was Greg's turn to sigh. "Actually," he laughed softly, "I've been trying to forget."

He wasn't sure if it was what he said, or maybe the way he said it, but the next thing he knew, Sara was on her feet.

"What? Is this all a joke to you?"

"What?" Greg asked, caught off guard.

"You think this is funny?" she yelled at him, throwing her hands to her side.

"You think I'm laughing?" Greg demanded, standing up as well.

"You just did!" Sara yelled back at him, starting to pace back and forth.

Greg was fuming now, as he slammed his locker closed, "Just because I want to forget what happened doesn't mean I think what happened was a joke!" he yelled back.

"Are you two fighting?" Grissom's voice brought both their attention back to the doorway.

"No!" the answer was yelled in unison by the pair. Enraged, Greg sat back down, holding his head once again. He felt ready to tear his hair out.

"Good," Grissom replied coming into the locker room. It had been apparent that the two had been in yet another fight, something that was happening more and more as the days passed by. Grissom knew he needed to get them back out in the field, and the sooner the better, but he didn't want them back out before they were ready.

"Here's your next assignment," he handed the folder to Greg after Sara had refused to take it. She was standing in the corner, and Grissom could swear he saw steam coming off of her.

"Shifts over," Greg muttered, opening the folder to sift through the papers.

"It's what you'll be working on for the next several weeks."

Greg's brow furled. "Griss, this is in the Cascades, it's out of our jurisdiction."

"It's a three week seminar Greg," Grissom started, watching Sara out of the corner of his eye as she looked up. "I've chosen the two of you to go; I think it'll be helpful."

"What, like a retraining class? Grissom, I don't need to retrain, I need to be out in the field, not in some building jotting useless notes down on some paper."

"You're not ready to go back to the field yet Sara; this may help you get there though. They recreate crime scenes; it's a slow step back into the feel of work. I think it will help the two of you."

"I'm ready to go back out into the field," Sara argued, stepping closer.

"You'll be leaving at six tomorrow, make sure to pack warm clothes, weather's cold up there."

"You can't be serious," Greg said, looking up from the papers in his hands.

Grissom only raised an eyebrow, silencing him. "Sara, you're in charge of Greg," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Greg called after him, "why does she get to be in charge?"

"Because, I said so," Grissom answered simply, disappearing down the hall.

Greg seemed taken aback, but then he just shrugged. "Fair enough," he said with a sigh, grabbing the last of his stuff. "See you tomorrow then I guess," with that he left for home.

Sara had other plans though, picking up the folder and she made her way towards Grissom's office. She didn't even bother to knock, or sit for that matter as she threw the file on his desk.

"I don't need to go to this," she told him, reminding herself to stay calm. It was hard though, he was treating her like glass, and she was getting sick of it.

"I don't care what you think Sara. You're going, that's final. This will be a good experience for Greg, and I'm not letting you back into the field until you do."

Grissom knew that it was the only way she would agree to it. He had struck a cord, knew it in the way she looked at him.

"That is so unfair," she told him coldly, grabbing the file, "I'm ready to go back in the filed," she told him again. She left without another word, leaving Grissom in silence. He shook his head, wondering dully if he had made the right decision.

**TBC**


	2. Leaving

**LuvinNickyStokes:**

That's one of the things I'm really trying to show, is that they aren't okay, aren't perfect. You'll see more of this as the story goes on. I'm surprised that she hasn't either, at least in the show –grins-

**Ms. Elizabeth Granger**

I thought that line worked fairly well. I'm glad you'll be along for the ride, but you'll prb see me keeping my distance, since I don't want to end up a Karate leftovers

**And thanks to everyone else who reviewed. Onto chapter two. **

* * *

**Chapter Two: Leaving**

Greg dug through the bag that sat on the table, checking his list one last time. An extra coat, a months worth of clothing, a good pair of hiking boots…he shook his head dropping the paper on the table. He rested his elbows on the table, groaning as he did so. He had to buy most of it earlier that day; after all it wasn't like he had a winter's wardrobe in his closet. It hadn't been easy to find either.

"So you got the call?" Warrick asked coming in.

Greg grinned at him, straightening up, "Lucky me huh?"

Warrick gave him a thumbs up as he pulled a soda out of the fridge. After taking a sip, he responded.

"It'll be good for you, they teach a lot of neat things there, very useful for newbies like you."

Greg nodded, going back through the list. "So, is that why Sara doesn't want to go?" he asked.

Warrick shrugged, leaning against the counter. "It'll be her third one," he said, taking another sip. "I've only been to one."

Greg laughed a little, "Poor Sara."

Warrick smiled at him, watching the young man zip close the suitcase in front of him. Greg had been hurt pretty bad half a year ago, being shot twice and taking a plunge down a cliff face that was nearly fifty feet high, it was a miracle that he had even lived. And that was only some of what he went through. Both Greg and Sara had been reluctant to talk about what had happened, which was the main reason why Grissom had gotten both of them into therapy.

Warrick had seen the surveillance footage, had been angered and sickened by it. And that was only inside the store. The rest of the team had no way of knowing what happened elsewhere.

Greg looked back up at him, realizing he was being watched, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Warrick shook his head, "Nothing, never mind it," he told Greg, leaving the soda can on the counter. "Have fun," he patted his shoulder as he passed by him.

"Sure thing," he muttered, looking back up as Sara came into the room.

"Hey," he said, watching her, "you almost ready?"

Sara let out a sigh, turning to him. "I've been ready Greg," she said shortly.

Greg shrugged, glancing over the list once again. "Just because you're mad at Grissom doesn't mean you have to take it out on me."

"I'm not mad at Grissom," Sara snapped at him, grabbing up the soda can Warrick had left behind. "I'm so sick of people just leaving stuff like this around, and they don't even finish it, do you know how much of a waste that is?" she muttered, dumping the rest of the contents down the drain.

"Well," Greg started, "Maybe he wasn't done with it?"

"Of course he's not done with it, what a novel idea," Sara said sarcastically. "This isn't the first time it's happened Greg, he's finished. He just doesn't want to clean up the mess."

"You don't have to clean it up," Greg reminded her, but it only seemed to offend her.

"I can do what I want," she said slowly, refusing to look at him.

"Why are mad at me?" he asked suddenly, dropping his chin into his hands, leaning on the table.

"I'm not mad at you," Sara said, raising her voice some.

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"I'm not yelling at you!" she yelled, turning towards him.

From across the hallway, Warrick shook his head as Grissom entered the room.

"You sure this is a good idea?" he asked him, pointing to the quarreling pair after Grissom gave him a questioning look.

"They'll be fine," Grissom stated, "Three weeks up in the mountains will be good for them; they'll have plenty of time to cool down."

Warrick raised an eyebrow, "It's the 20 hours in the car that I'm worried about. And that's only if they don't stop."

"They'll be fine," Grissom repeated, coming to read over his shoulder.

"If you say so, but if they kill each other," he was interrupted as Sara and Greg's voices grew louder, "I'm not covering for you," Warrick finished.

With and audible sigh, Grissom left him, striding into the other room quickly. "Both of you," he intervened quickly, "Enough."

The two grew quiet, their faces still red; Grissom was surprised that both of them were still in one piece.

"You're not in High School anymore," he started once he felt the tension die down some. "Whatever problems you have, I'm sure you can talk it out like reasonable adults. You have to be on the road in less than an hour, and I don't want you driving like this. If you two don't get along, I'll drive you all the way out there; both of you will sit in the back, and Hodges will be in the middle," he threatened.

No one said anything; both Sara and Greg were embarrassed, not so much from being caught fighting by their boss, but more for fighting without any real reason. "So whatever it is, let it go, and apologize to each other."

Grissom waited for a moment, but when it was clear neither of them were going to make a move, he brought the threat up again. "Now," he said, more sternly.

"Sorry," Sara finally muttered, turning back to the counters.

"Ditto," Greg said easily.

Grissom left the room after one final warning, shaking his head. That was the closest he was going to get the two to apologizing. He could only hope he was making the right choice. Sara and Greg had been at each other's throats for some time now, and he wasn't really sure what caused it or when it started. Other than that fact, he was looking forward to three weeks without any fights.

* * *

Grissom met them again in the parking lot, glad to see that the two were getting along. From what he could see, they were getting along. Greg had the SUV already loaded, and was closing the back door as he came up.

"Here's the company card," Grissom said, handing it to him. "This will pay for gas and meals on the way down. You have some allowance in case of emergencies, but don't over do it. Ecklie won't be happy if he has to cover for you."

Greg nodded, sticking the card in his wallet as Grissom continued. "We've already prepaid for your cabin and classes, you'll get the schedules when you arrive, and you have a 500 credit at the local store in the town there for anything you'll need. Anything else will need to be paid out of your own pockets."

Sara came along side them, rubbing the back of her head. "We need to get going," Sara said, watching them.

Grissom nodded, "Drive carefully," he told Greg, watching the younger man climb into the driver's seat.

Greg gave him the okay sign with his fingers as he closed the door. The SUV had already been topped off with gas, and checked over before the long trip, they were ready to go. Next to him, Sara reclined in the seat, placing a pillow up against the door and pulling her coat over her arms. They had agreed to drive in eight hour shifts, and if they planned it just right, they would arrive about two days early, giving them enough time to figure out where they were staying, and the layout of the town.

"Mind if I listen to some music?" Greg asked as he turned the car on.

"Whatever," Sara replied, not even opening her eyes, "wake me up at two."

With a shrug Greg switched on the radio, turning it down so he could barely hear it. He wanted it on mainly for background noise; complete silence was the last thing he wanted to hear for the next eight hours.

**TBC**


	3. Alphabet Games

**Mar**

Lol, I could imagine Griss telling them that, "you to aren't married, so stop it!" lol. Thanks for the comment btw!

**Mellaithwen**

You'll learn more about why Sara's acting the way she is, but not till later in the story. And no, no silence, a silent story sure would be interesting…rather hard to write though…

**LuvinNickyStokes **

shivers Hodges, no me gusta. I really dislike him, and I thought that would be a large enough threat to make the two rethink about a few things.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Alphabet Games**

Traffic, once leaving Vegas, had been relatively good. As the night drew into the late hours, they were nearly the only ones left on the road. Every so often they would pass a lone vehicle headed towards town, but it was clear that they were the only ones headed out to the mountains.

Greg drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to 'Louie, Louie' that was playing in the background. After searching several stations, he had left it on oldies; not his first choice in music, but it wasn't bad he figured. Besides that fact, there wasn't much else on at this time. Sara had fallen asleep shortly after leaving Las Vegas, not having stirred since. It made Greg wonder if she was feeling the strain of work like he was, or just not sleeping during the day.

Greg's eyes scanned the horizon ahead as far as his headlights went. The road was endless, from what he could see, seemingly flowing over the rolling hills. It wasn't until he was out here, that he realized how unique the landscape was. Being in the city, you never really got a good look at the land outside the casinos; he had to admit it was quite beautiful. It had been years since he had last been this far out.

Next to him, he heard Sara sigh, letting out a yawn. Greg reached over and turned the radio down, watching her as her eyes fluttered open after a minute. She didn't say anything, only stared out the window as they drove on.

Finally she pushed her coat off her arms, fumbling for the lever that straightened her chair. "What time is it?" she asked groggily, trying to read the numbers on the small radio face.

"A little after four," Greg told her, taking his eyes of the road for a moment to glance at her.

"Four? Greg, I told you to wake me up at two," she told him, growing angry.

"I'm doing fine right now," he reassured her, "you seemed tired, I thought I'd let you sleep some more."

"Greg, we had a plan, the plan won't work if you don't follow it," she argued.

"Why don't we create a new plan, we drive for as long as we can before changing. It'll go quicker that way."

Sara let out a sigh, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. "Greg, pull over, I'm driving now."

Greg only shook his head, "No, Sara."

"Greg," she started, her voice rising a notch.

"Sara, you just woke up from a dead sleep, you're in no condition to drive."

She only glared at him, crossing her arms.

"We're almost in Winnemucca, we'll stop there, have some breakfast, than you can take over."

"Fine," Sara muttered, brushing the hair from her face.

* * *

They ended up stopping at a small 24 hour diner; it was about the only thing open at five in the morning. They didn't take long to order, and while waiting for their food to arrive, Sara brought out the map, tracing along the road they had been traveling on for the last few hours now.

"We're making good time," Sara remarked, "at this rate, we might make it to Bend by noon."

Greg shrugged as the waiter brought their food by, service was fairly quick at this time; there were only two other people eating. "Maybe, there hasn't really been any traffic, but we're sure to hit some later on in the morning."

Sara nodded as she folded the map back up, taking a bite of her food. Greg watched her eat for a moment, before speaking up.

"I thought you were a vegetarian," he stated, taking a bite of the pancakes he had ordered.

Sara gave him a quizzical look, "I am," she stated, "it's a vegetarian omelet."

"You know," he told her, "a true vegetarian doesn't eat eggs, they're a byproduct of animals."

"I'm just one of those vegetarians that don't eat meat," Sara explained. Greg nodded, finishing his meal. After paying and tipping the waitress, they stopped for gas before heading on again.

After several tries of convincing Greg to sleep, Sara gave up. Greg, who could tell Sara was ready to go off on him again, calmly explained that he wasn't tired.

"I normally don't head off to sleep until around ten," he told her. "It's like telling me to go to bed four hours early."

"Fine," Sara told him, "don't whine at me when it's your turn to drive, and you're too tired."

Greg just shrugged; he had won, for now at least. He watched as they passed several stores, and a school in silence before Sara spoke up again.

"How do I get back to the freeway from here?" Sara asked him, reading the signs as she came to a stop at a light.

"Take a right here," Greg told her, "follow the road and keep an eye out for the signs. If I remember right they tell you where to turn."

Sara nodded her thanks, taking the turn that Greg had indicated. She had just spotted the first sign when Greg started talking again.

"Avenue," he said quickly, earning a perplexed look from Sara.

"Excuse me?" She asked, not sure what he was saying.

"Avenue, A," he said again, laughing as she gave him another odd look. "Haven't you ever played the alphabet game?"

When she shook her head Greg grinned. "On long drives, we would try and find the entire alphabet on road signs. The word has to start with the letter you are looking for, and it has to be done in alphabetical order. No skipping letters and no taking freebies. So, Avenue would be A."

"And this is supposed to be entertaining?" Sara asked.

Greg nodded, "Boise, B."

"I don't think so," she shook her head.

"You afraid that I'll beat you?" Greg asked.

"Caldwell, Denio, and Exit," Sara read off the sign as they passed under it. "C, D and E. Score's three to two, who's winning now?"

Greg laughed, "If you want to play like that; Freeway's left by the way," he smirked. "We're even now."

"Not for long field mouse," Sara said, quirking a smile at him.

"I told you to never call me that again," Greg frowned, earning an even larger smile from her.

She only laughed as she checked over her shoulder before pulling onto the freeway. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**TBC**


	4. Arrival

**Chapter Four: Arrival **

Like Greg had said, they hit traffic only a few hours later. It was more than the morning rush hour to work, but a twenty car pile up that left them stranded near Vale for several hours. There original plan on getting to the convention was changed after they reached Bend near 11 that night, instead of noon.

They both agreed on stopping there for the night. It would put them anywhere between half a day to a full day behind, but they still had room to spare. Greg gave Grissom a quick call as Sara showered, letting him know where they were. Grissom was glad to hear things were going relatively well.

The two had left the hotel by eight the next morning, reaching the small town just a few hours later. Greg shivered as he stepped outside into ankle deep snow, wishing now that he had left his warm clothes handy, instead of packed tightly into his suitcase.

"It's freezing," he told Sara, as she walked around to the back. She was pulling her coat, but that still wasn't enough to keep the chill out.

They were just pulling out their suitcases when they were greeted by two men. One was in his twenties, close to Greg's age, clean shaven with dark hair. The other had to be close to 40, having both a beard and mustache; he looked quite like an ice man.

"You must be Greg Sanders and Sara Sidle," the younger man commented, shaking hands in greeting.

"How'd you guess?" Greg asked incredulous, closing the back door.

"You're the only two that have shown up in t shirts. You're also the only two that came straight from desert weather," the young man laughed. "I'm detective Larry Stiles, this is detective Jim Neff. We're in charge of this year's convention. We'll show you to your cabin."

"Detectives huh?" Greg asked, following them. "I thought this was a only CSI thing."

"It's an officer convention," Jim told him, "Mostly everyone here is in training, either for CSI, detective, officer…three different sections we focus on. This convention really isn't necessary for anything, but many people find it very helpful. You two will probably be the only certificated field agents here."

Greg nodded as he worked to keep up with the pair. Next to him, Sara was breathing heavily as they made their way up the hill.

"Actually, there is only one other certified field agent, Cindy Coupe, but I don't know if she's coming or not. Called in a few days back saying she wasn't feeling all that well. So we won't know until later. Anyways, don't be surprised if the other trainees look up to you. Sometimes the youth get carried away."

Greg nodded, breathing heavy as well now. He shook his head. "I'm so out of shape," he complained as they arrived at the cabin.

"Not really," Larry told him, coming to a stop. He was resting his hands on his hips, slowing his breathing as well. "Remember, you're roughly six thousand feet higher than back home. Air's thinner up here. This is where you'll be staying." He nodded towards the building.

The cabin itself was fairly nice, like one of those pictures you saw in a magazine. It had a small deck with an awning to help keep the boards dry, and a railing that wrapped around the sides. It had a single window in front and one on the side as well as skylight on the roof to help with lighting issues.

Inside was pretty much the same. A small sunken living room with a couch and chair, and small fireplace, two beds were in the corner leading from the living room, and on the other side of the wall was a small kitchen, with an island providing a stove top. Next to the bed against the wall was another room, which Greg believed to be the bathroom.

He wasn't aware that Jim was talking again until Sara nudged him in the ribs.

"…keys are here, make sure to lock up when you leave. We don't have too many break ins up here, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You're schedules are on the counter up there, first class is tomorrow in the break hall, near the lake. You may want to take a walk around, accustom yourself to the area. You have walkie talkies up in the cupboard, have them with you at all times. Cell phones are useless up here, no service, and we have only one landline, that's for emergency use only. If you need to get a hold of us, my cabin is up the hill, the furthest one up, Larry's is near the front of the town."

Greg nodded as he set his stuff down, taking another look.

"Other than that, enjoy yourselves, this is your home for the next three weeks," Larry told them as they two showed themselves out.

Sara closed the door with a sigh, moving to open her suitcase and pulling out a change of clothes. Greg was already pulling on a sweater, moving over to the fire place.

"You know what you're doing?" Sara asked him, pulling on a sweater as well.

Greg nodded, "Cut me some slack, I know how to make a fire."

"That's what I'm worried about," Sara said with a smirk, making her way over to the counters. "Wonderful, our class starts at five."

"AM?" Greg asked, shutting the gate as soon as he was certain the fire wouldn't die.

Sara nodded, "Three classes the first week, four the second, and three the third. Classes last 12 hours," she dropped the paper with a sigh before going through the cupboards. "Walkie Talkies are here, so are a couple of flashlights, and something that looks like food" she called, "but that seems like all the put in here. We need to do some shopping."

Greg rubbed his arms, taking a seat in the chair. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn a sweater and still felt cold. "We have a credit at the store," he reminded her.

Sara nodded, carrying her suitcase over to the far bed, the one closest to the kitchen and started unpacking, folding her clothes into the dresser that was provided. Greg did the same a moment later.

"Nice place," he commented, closing the drawers.

"Yeah, one of the nice things about coming to these conventions, they provide nice lodging. We won't have to worry about nosey neighbors."

Greg laughed, knowing how much Sara hated hotels. He knew she tried to avoid them at all costs; it was why stopping at one last night had surprised him so much.

"Now what?" Greg asked, sitting down on the bed.

"We scour the town I guess," Sara said, pulling on her coat and hat. "Put the fire out, we'll start it again when we come back."

Greg nodded, already moving.

"We need to find out where our class is tomorrow, then we'll find the store and get some food for this place."

Greg grinned at her as he pulled his own coat on. "It'll be like we're married!"

Sara laughed, shaking her head, "We're a little old to be playing house Greg, and don't get any ideas," she warned him.

**TBC**


	5. First Day of Class

**Chapter Five: First Day of Class**

Greg was up again at midnight. Working night shifts really messed up with life sometimes, such as now. By the time he became accustomed to sleeping at night, the convention would be over, then he would have to get used to sleeping during the day once again.

Sara, on the other hand, was fast asleep. It still bothered him. Sara shouldn't be that tired, but then again, if she wasn't sleeping during the day, maybe her hours were starting to catch up with her.

Greg watched her sleep for a minute before heading off to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, digging in the small fridge for the milk. They had spent a better part of an hour the night before picking up all sorts of food. They had resorted mainly to precooked meals, as well as boxed meals. The two had argued briefly about getting meat, since Sara didn't eat it anymore, she claimed it was a waste of their budget money. However, Greg refused to become a vegetarian for three weeks.

Greg had finally won the argument, even if Sara had called it a compromise. Each of them would cook for themselves, and Greg had promised to clean up after himself, so that she wasn't left handling any meat.

It was ten to four when the alarm went off. The skies were still dark, but their class would begin in roughly an hour. Greg looked up from the book he was reading, waiting for Sara to turn the alarm off, but after a few minutes it was clear she wasn't moving.

Letting out a sigh, Greg closed his book, making sure to mark his place, and climbed off the couch. Even with the lamp on, it was hard to figure out how to turn the diminutive machine off. He managed after a moment, turning to Sara soon afterwards, shaking her gently.

"Sara, wake up," he called, shaking her some more. She let out sigh, muttering something that sounded like 'go away' as she rolled from her left side to her right, pulling the covers up under her chin.

Greg rolled his eyes, shaking her once again. "Time to get up Sara," he said, feeling a little sorry that she was so tired.

"Leave me alone," she muttered, not moving this time.

"Sara, we have a class to get to," Greg reminded her.

"I'm not going," she said flatly, "now, let me sleep."

Greg straightened up, sighing as he ran a hand across his face. Smiling he moved to the foot of the bed, grabbing the end of the covers in his hands.

"You decent?" he asked her. She only nodded, but it was all he needed. In one quick motion he yanked the covers off her, wadding them into a ball and pitching them across the room onto the couch.

"Greg!" she cried, drawing her body into a fetal position as the cold morning air settled around her.

"Time to get up," he told her again, still smiling.

"It's freezing! Give them back!"

"Get some clothes on then," he told her, making his way back towards the couch.

"I do have clothes on genius," she grumbled sourly.

"Get up," he told her again, picking up his book again.

"I'm not going," she argued, "I don't need to go," she ranted more to herself than she did Greg.

"Fine, freeze, doesn't bother me."

Letting out a curse, Sara finally sat up, rubbing her arms as she shivered. They didn't keep the fire going during the night, for safety reasons obviously. It couldn't have been warmer than forty in there.

"There," she stated coldly, "happy now?"

Greg didn't answer her, just kept on reading as she collected her clothes and entered the bathroom, nearly slamming the door behind her. By the time she came back out it there class was ready to start in only ten minutes, and Sara hadn't even eaten yet. Greg calmly urged and prodded her to eat quickly, but she ignored his hints as she finished, washing her bowl and leaving it in the drain rack.

Greg was standing next to the door, holding the flashlights as Sara finally pulled her coat on. He handed one to her, the sun wouldn't be up for at least another hour. "We're going to be late," he told her, checking the time. "Class starts in three minutes."

"Big deal," Sara muttered, still angry at him for earlier, and seriously craving a cup of coffee. The class would surely have some, but from her past experiences, it was never good.

Greg followed behind her, making sure the cabin was indeed locked. The building was roughly a ten minute walk, and by the time they arrived, class had indeed begun. They slipped inside as quiet as possible, but still drew the attention of the other 13 people in the room, as well as the instructor. Taking a seat in the back, Greg and Sara could only listen until a second instructor provided them with paper and pens for note taking. Greg jotted down as much as he could remember, but it was difficult. They didn't break until 10 that morning, and Greg had little more than twenty full pages of notes. Most of the stuff he knew already, but since they were 'required' to take notes, he had little choice. It felt like high school all over again.

He had one teacher that loved notes. Day after day, for weeks at a time, all they would do every day, is take notes. Then they would have a test over all the notes they took. In this case, the notes were turned in, for the instructor to review, making sure that everyone was getting the gist of the idea. Greg supposed for a trainee, this was possibly a once in a life time chance. However if this chance had come up while he was training, he would have flat out refused the offer.

Sara had less then he did, making him wonder if he was perhaps overdoing it, but then again, Sara was probably not putting her full effort in. Greg didn't blame her, if this was his third time doing this, he wouldn't put in full effort either.

The break only lasted ten minutes, enough time to stretch and grab a snack, before starting all over again. At two they split for an hour for lunch. The food wasn't bad, but in Sara's case, everything was meat except a handful of carrots, which she nibbled on after everyone else had taken their food.

The two didn't speak during this time, Greg figured Sara was still mad at him, and he didn't mind too much, his brain felt like mush and he wouldn't be surprised if it fell out of his head onto his lunch plate. He didn't even finish, feeling somewhat guilty that Sara hadn't anything to eat besides rabbit food, but then again that's what she ate most of the time, so it didn't really make any difference, right?

Class ended promptly at six, without another break. Greg was beginning to see why Sara hadn't wanted to come, and why Warrick had been pitying him earlier. They returned to the cabin, to weary to do really anything else, plus the fact the town practically died around five thirty save for a single restaurant and the small hospital that was no larger than the cabins themselves.

Sara began fixing herself dinner as soon as they were inside. Greg lit the fire before lying down on the couch, fighting off a yawn as he closed his eyes. He was starting to feel the strain of not sleeping during the night, and the class had been more than tiring.

He was nearly asleep when something was set on his stomach, promptly awakening him. Greg opened his eyes to see Sara pushing a bowl towards him.

"Here," she told him, making sure he had a good enough hold on it before letting go.

"What is it?" Greg asked, somewhat surprised.

"Cream of mushroom," she said simply, taking a seat in the chair. "You need to eat, you barely had anything at lunch."

Greg shook his head lightly, "I'm not that hungry," he lied. He was, in fact, starving, but cream of mushroom soup didn't sound all that appetizing.

"Don't make me waste perfectly good food," she warned him.

With a sigh, Greg sat up a little, taking a few small bites. It wasn't as bad as it sounded. They said little more as they ate; Sara took the bowl away as Greg finished before he had a chance to get up.

"Get some rest," she told him, "you look exhausted."

"May I remind you that you are the one who wouldn't get up this morning."

"May I remind you that I'm in charge," she said simply, washing the bowls up.

Greg shook his head, but couldn't complain, he was too tired. Moving over to the fire, he was chased away by Sara.

"I'll take care of that," she shooed him away, "Get some sleep."

"Sara, we don't even have a class tomorrow," he complained, beginning to feel very much like a young child.

"Go," she said, pointing towards the beds.

Greg grumbled, grabbing his sleepwear before entering the bathroom. "Yes honey," he called sarcastically.

He could hear her answer in an equal tone as he shut the door behind him. "Sure thing sweetie."

**TBC**


	6. Such a Small Town

**Uh yeah, I'm lax on the r2r, I know. Will have them next chapter, promises! I really love reading the feedback!**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Such a Small Town**

Greg was the first one up again the next morning. He was, in fact, rather surprised he had slept till seven. Sara, he could tell, was still fast asleep. Shaking his head, he crawled out of bed, shivering as he made his way into the bathroom.

Greg had showered and dressed, and was scribbling a note for Sara when he noticed she was awake. Sitting up in her bed she had pulled the blankets around her shoulders, watching him.

"Where you going?" she asked in between a yawn.

"Did I wake you?" Greg wondered, crumbling up the paper in his hand before tossing it in the trash can at the end of the counter.

She shook her head, climbing out from under the covers and pulling her sweater on that she left at the end of the bed.

"I'm just going to check out the town," Greg said easily, "May as well, since we're stuck here for a while."

Sara nodded, "I'm coming with you," she stated quickly, pulling on a double layer of socks before pulling on her boots.

"What if I say no?" Greg asked, leaning against the counter top.

"Then I would have to say too bad, because I'm coming anyways."

Greg laughed a little, giving her a bit of a nod. "Hurry up then, I'm going to see if this town actually has any drinkable coffee."

Sara nodded as she laced her boots up, "Coffee sounds wonderful," she admitted, grabbing her coat and hat off the rack near the door.

* * *

It was the real first look they had at the town. It took roughly 15 minutes to walk the length of it, and another 10 to walk the width. In the center was a small lake, frozen from the sub-frozen temperatures. A group of kids were skating on the surface, Greg believed they were from the houses below.

It didn't take them long to find a coffee house, a small business ran by a young lady, who also managed a small library. Sara picked up a decaf coffee, while Greg ventured to try a white swiss mocha. It wasn't what he normally had, but it would have to do for the next several weeks. He could only hope that his coffee stash would be safe back at the lab while he was gone.

The pair had wandered around for more than an hour, talking in general about nothing, when someone came running up to them. The young man nodded in greeting, breathing heavily. His chin length hair was brown, died blond at the tips, shading his small face.

"Hey," he said, shaking hands with the both of them, "it's good to see you two."

Greg nodded, "Do we know you?" he queried, watching him.

The young man laughed, "I'm sorry, I forgot my manners. I'm Candi Wilson, I'm in your class."

"Candi?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow as she shook his hand back.

"Long story," Candi said with a smile. "So, is it true? I've heard that you two are already certified."

After Greg and Sara nodded the youth continued, "What are you doing here then? I mean, no offense meant, but this is for trainees…or are you here for something else? Is there a crime scene anywhere?" he asked quickly.

_Not yet, _Greg thought glumly, _but there may be one soon. _Instead Greg just smiled, "No, we're here for a refreshing experience." He wasn't a very good liar, but it seemed to convince the man.

"Cool, do you guys mind if I hang with you? I so totally get it if you don't want me around, me being a lowly trainee and all."

Greg was about to tell him no when Sara spoke up for him. "It's okay, we're not doing anything really. You know, Greg here was a trainee not too long ago."

Greg nudged her in the ribs, glaring at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Honestly? So, how's the life working with the crime lab? How long have you been there?"

"Years actually," Greg commented dryly as the trio started walking again.

"Greg was a lab technician before he became a field agent," Sara said promptly.

Candi laughed, turning to him. "Why the switch then? I may not know everything, but I do know that a lab technician gets better pay. Did they fire you, or they just couldn't pay your salary?"

"It's not about the money," Greg told him, growing agitated. Sara certainly would be hearing from him later about this.

Candi was already shaking his head, "I guess not, but still there has to be a reason" he stopped, rubbing his hands together as if trying to fight away the chill.

"Anyways, I'll head out now. I'll be seeing you two tomorrow," he waved his goodbye, leaving almost as quickly as he had come.

Greg let out a sigh as they were left alone once again. "Thanks for that," he said sarcastically.

"What?" Sara wondered, keeping pace with him.

"Next time you tell some complete stranger my life history, ask first."

She laughed, "You should be proud of your accomplishments," she told him gently. "It's people like you that make work like this really mean something. Many people think that what we do, it's all for the money, that we're just some greedy know it alls. You give us a different outlook on that."

Greg shrugged, "I don't really like talking about it, especially in front of people I don't really like."

"Candi?" Sara asked, "he's just a kid. Besides, there's someone else that's just like him."

"I was never that irritating."

"True," Sara pointed out, "You're worse, still are."

"I'll forget you said that," Greg replied, earning a laugh from Sara.

"So," Sara watched her breath trail out into the air, "what do you think so far?"

"Honestly? I'd rather be working in the lab."

Sara grinned, turning to him, hands in her pocket. "You mean to tell me you're not enjoying any of this?"

"Oh yeah," Greg perked up, watching as snow began to fall, adding to the layer already on the ground. "I enjoy being stuck in the middle of nowhere, freezing at the same time."

Sara laughed, "You mean to tell me you've never been up to the mountains before?"

"Oh, I've been up to the mountains before, but that was before I was used to triple degree heat."

"You better pull out extra blankets tonight."

The two turned as Jim made his way up towards them.

"Hey," Sara called to him in greeting.

Jim smiled back, "You look lovely today Sidle," he said softly. "Anyways, radio has reports of an ice front moving in tonight. Where supposed to get into single digits for the night, highs will be around 20 tomorrow."

"You have a radio?" Greg wondered, watching him.

Jim nodded, "So do you, above the fireplace. Wont get too much up here, but it's something."

"Twenty degrees," Sara muttered, shivering softly.

"So what do you do for fun here?" Greg wondered. It was only their second day here, and they had pretty much done everything.

"There's some trails you can hike, some of the hills up further are good for snowmobiles, you can rent from the store, just ask at the front counter. Other than that, skating on the lake, or buying a pack of cards from the store. Library shows various movies off and on, small screen, but it is entertainment."

Greg nodded, "We'll have to check it all out."

"You two a couple?" Jim asked suddenly.

Greg was taken aback, but it was Sara that answered, "That's not really your concern," she told him.

"Sorry," Jim said softly, "Just rumors going around."

"What rumors?" Greg asked, watching him.

"Nothing," Jim said with a laugh. "Don't worry about it, it's nothing big. I was just curious, sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong."

Greg just nodded as he watched the detective walk away. He and Sara exchanged glances before continuing on in silence.

"So?" Sara asked softly.

Greg turned to her, then looked away again. "So?" he repeated.

"Are we?"

Greg only shrugged. They had been going out lately, dinners and such, but it wasn't really anything big. Lately it seemed all that they did was fight. "I don't know," he stated softly. "I mean, I would like to try, if you're okay with that and all," he added quickly.

Sara smiled at him, grabbing his gloved hand gently. "I think it would be, what would Grissom call it? A good experience?"

Greg laughed, giving her a small hug. "It wouldn't hurt, I suppose."

Sara laughed back, stopping for a moment to reach up and give him a small kiss on the cheek. She did so, unaware that they were being watched. As the pair continued to walk again, the lone figure turned in the opposite direction, turning to watch them for only a moment longer before disappearing.

**TBC**


	7. Confrontation

**Chapter Seven: Confrontation **

Greg let out a sigh as he made his way to the table. Before he could get there though, Candi came up along side him.

"You mind if I sit with you guys?" he asked.

Sara, who had just sat down at the table, nodded, sliding in against the window as Greg sat down next to her. Candi took a seat across from them.

"This is really amazing," Candi started, taking a bite of the meatloaf on his plate. "Who would have ever thought that no two fingerprints are alike!"

"Yeah, really," Greg muttered with a small smile. "Fingerprints 101, CSI's best friend."

It was their second class, and they had done nothing more than take notes, once again. Greg and Sara had cut back on jotting down the ideas given to them by their instructor, who had felt it was a good idea to review basic knowledge. Still, they had four hours until class would end.

Sara, learning from last time, had made a salad the night before, bringing that for lunch. Luckily enough, the small potluck set out today had a wider variety of food, so Sara had also gone through the line as well.

She was about to take her first bite when Candi reached over and pulled her plate away. "I can't believe some people," he said, "such pigs, taking all the food and leaving a lady with nothing but side dishes."

He said this as he started piling some of his own food onto her plate. Sara watched, speechless as Greg tried his hardest not to laugh.

"Don't worry about me," Candi continued, "I have enough to spare. I eat more than most people, but I'm still growing, you know, I need my strength. This is the most critical time for development, well, the second most critical, I mean, considering when you are in your first several years of life. But you can't really control that time, it's all up to your parents on what you eat. This is the first critical time you choose for yourself. I hope you don't mind your meat being rare."

"Actually," Sara said calmly, "I'm a vegetarian."

"Really?" Candi laughed as he pushed her plate back towards here. "My sister's a vegetarian too, and you won't believe this." Candi leaned forward, whispering as if he had a secret. "She refuses to eat any kind of meat!"

"No way," Sara said slowly as Greg choked on his drink. "You okay?" Sara asked him.

Greg nodded, "Yeah," he responded, using a napkin to wipe the coffee off his chin.

"It's so odd," Candi continued as if nothing had happened, "She hasn't eaten meat for years now. I keep telling her she needs to get to a doctor, I mean, it has to be some horrible kind of disease or something, in order for someone not eating meat."

"I know what you mean," Sara sighed, looking at her plate. "I'm not really that hungry, big breakfast."

"I didn't have any" Candi admitted, "not enough time; have to get as much sleep as possible, need to be fresh and ready for class. Can you believe I've only taken 53 pages of notes so far?"

"Only?" Greg wondered, watching the young man.

"I know, I know, it's really bad, I should be paying more attention, but there's so much information. Hey, we get out to do field work next week; do you think I can be with you guys?"

"I think they pick the teams," Sara spoke up quickly, twirling her napkin in her fingers.

Candi nodded, "Well, if they don't, can I?"

Sara was reluctant to nod, but finally did so after a short moment. "Sure, I don't see why not.

"Great," Candi chimed, "um, you'll have to excuse me for a moment, but I need to use the little boy's room," he said, holding up a finger.

"Thanks for that information," Sara said ironically as he left. Next to her Greg burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

"You have got to be kidding me," he said to her in between laughs. "This kid cannot be for real."

Sara shook her head, "I'm scared to ask. Either he's a complete idiot, or an undercover stand up comedian." She let out a sigh, watching as Greg picked up her plate, placing it at the end of the table.

* * *

After class the trio made their way back to their cabins, flashlights in their hands. Any day that they had classes were pretty much shot, you went to class in the dark, and left the class in the dark. And this was really dark, not like the dark back in Vegas. Come to think of it, it never really got dark there, unless of course there was a power outage. There were so many lights in that city, at least around the strip. Once you got further out, it became darker, but for here, this was pretty much black.

Candi had talked non-stop on the way back; Greg was far more than grateful when they came to the path that led up to his cabin. However, Candi wasn't done talking just yet.

"Then my mother left my father after my father found out my mother was having an affair with the next door neighbor. Which is odd because normally it's the other way around, the father leaves the mother, or the mother leaves the father…well, whoever finds out that the other person is having an affair is the one to leave first. In this case, my case, the person having the affair left the other person."

Greg barely listened, blinking in the dim light. He could barely see the young man's face, but it was quite evident that he wasn't going to stop soon. What was worse was that the temperature was dropping; Greg shivered as an icy blast of wind hit them from behind.

"Candi?"

The three shined their flashlights up the path to see an older man walking down towards them.

"Hey Frank," Candi waved towards the approaching form.

"What are you doing out here? You have testing tomorrow," the man asked, shining his own flashlight on the threesome.

"Just talking, we're not causing any harm," the young man started, but Frank cut him off.

"You have plenty of time later to talk, right now you need to get inside and get some studying done. I'm not covering your ass again if you're not ready for the test."

"Okay, okay," Candi complained, "I'll catch you two later I guess," he said his goodbyes as made his way up the trail. The older man turned to him.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with him," he apologized, "Candi's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he's virtually harmless."

"You are?" Sara asked, moving a step closer to Greg as another blast of wind threatened to knock them down.

"Detective Randolph, I work with the Denver Crime Lab," he shook their hands.

"Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders," Sara said in reply, "Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Randolph nodded, "If he's ever a bother for you two, just let me know. I'm in charge of him while we're up here. Sometimes he tends to get carried away."

"Is he really working to be a CSI then?" Greg wondered, shivering still.

They could barely see him nod, "He's trying. Don't think he'll make it, poor lad, but then again if it wasn't for his father then he wouldn't even be here."

"Why is that?" Sara wondered.

"His father is the head detective of the lab back in Denver; he's threatened to sue us for discrimination if we cut him off. So Candi applied for the position, we let him take it, and he's been working hard and doing a fairly good job, only problem is he doesn't remember much for long. It seems like we have to sit him down every week and reteach everything to him. Boss sent him out here just to get him away from the lab for a while. Place is behind and Candi's not too much of a help in those situations."

"Does he have any medical problems?" Greg asked.

"None that his records indicate, rumors say that his father wiped them out due to embarrassment. There has to be something, but then again we all have some sort of problem. Candi's not a bad kid; just he's had a hard past life, no one there for him. Father too busy working, mother could care less."

"If he wants to hang around us at times, we don't mind," Sara told Randolph, "as long as it's not all the time, or around dinner."

Randolph laughed, "I heard about that, I'm sorry. I'll explain it to him tonight."

"You heard about it already?" Greg asked, laughing as well.

"Yeah, news travels fast in this town. You'd be surprised. Anyhow, I need to get back and make sure he's actually doing something constructive, and you best get inside before you freeze on the spot there."

Greg nodded thankfully as they turned away. The wind was bitterly cold against his face as the two trudged on in silence. There were advantages, and disadvantages to having their cabin on the outskirts of the town. It was a lot quieter than the ones closer in the middle, but as in this situation, it seemed to take forever.

They were halfway there when another set of flashlights came up from behind them. The two ignored them, not thinking much, until a voice called out to them. With a groan, Greg turned around to see who it was. He was freezing, the wind was blowing stronger now, and he could no longer feel his hands and feet.

"You two the Las Vegas CSI right?" one asked.

Greg nodded, shining his flashlight on their face. He didn't recognize either of them, but that wasn't odd, there were over 300 people at the convention, and they had been here for only four days.

"Can we help you?" Sara asked; it was clear that she was cold from the sound of her voice.

"You're the two that we taken hostage right?" the other asked, obviously excited.

Greg was taken aback, "What business is that of yours?"

"We were just wondering, what exactly happened. They got away, that's obvious to see. Are you afraid they'll come after you at all?"

"We're done talking here," Greg told them sharply, pulling Sara along with him.

"Some CSIs," the first one muttered, "Can't even protect themselves against a couple of robbers."

Greg could feel Sara tense under him, but he held firm, "Don't," he warned, continuing his forward motion.

"We're not done," the first man said, but the two ignored him.

As soon as Greg felt Sara relax under his grip, he let go of her arm. It was only a second later that she was on the ground, face first in the snow. Greg spun around immediately, pushing back the man who had shoved Sara to the ground.

Before Sara could even get to her feet it had broken into a full fledged fight. It didn't last long; long enough to throw a few well timed punches from both sides, but that was it. By the time Sara was moving in to help, two other men broke into the scuffle.

Greg felt himself literally picked up and hauled back a few feet as he continued to thrash. The man holding him was obviously quite stronger, and he could barely make someone holding the other man back.

"Calm down kid," the man holding him back said. Greg recognized it as Randolph. The man must have heard them and come running.

Greg took a few deep breaths as Sara came up behind him, placing a hand on his back, trying to help him relax. He had dropped his flashlight in the snow, so it was rather hard to make very much out.

"Gentlemen," he heard someone speak, "There will be no fighting on these premises."

Greg finally recognized it as Larry, the detective they had met a few days back.

"Get to your cabins, if I catch you fighting again you will all be sent back home, and this will be reported to your supervisors who will follow with punishment, I can assure you."

Randolph patted his shoulder, letting go of him, "You okay?" he asked.

Greg barely nodded, but it was enough for him. He watched the two men leave, still angry. A bitter taste in the back of his throat made him feel sick.

The next thing he knew, Larry had come over, grabbing him roughly by the arm and dragging him towards the cabin. He stopped after a few feet, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"You are a certified CSI, I expected more out of you than this."

"It was in self defense for crying out loud," Sara said, coming up. She had overhead him; something Larry hadn't intended.

"I don't care who started it, the two of you set an example for all the other trainees. Is this what you want them to see?"

"Take it easy Stiles, some of those trainees that you're trying to protect, are pretty hotheaded. I'm fairly certain these two know better than to go around picking petty fights," Randolph interjected, retrieving Greg's flashlight from the snow.

"Fine, but next time something like this happens, walk away, don't engage in a fight. I will file a report to your supervisor if you do. Am I making myself clear on this?"

"Yes sir," Greg muttered, watching the young detective walk off.

Randolph handed him the flashlight, watching him for a moment. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah," Greg muttered. "I'll probably feel it the morning. Come on Sara, let's get going."

Sara nodded her thanks to Randolph before running to catch up with Greg. The two didn't talk as they climbed the steps, stomping their boots to knock off any extra snow before entering.

Greg immediately sat down on the couch after removing his boots. He didn't take anything else off; the cabin still carried an icy chill. Sara took of her hat and gloves, hanging them on the rack near the door when she stopped. There was blood on the floor, which surprised her.

She knew that Greg had taken a few good hits to the face, but none of them had caused bleeding. Randolph had made certain of that. She looked over to where he was sitting, he had said nothing since, nor had he moved since arriving.

Sara quickly made her way over to the couch, sitting next to him. Only then did she see the gash on his hand, clear through his glove.

"Greg," she told him softly, "you're hurt."

He gave her a questioning looked, following her gaze to his hand. He lifted up slightly, and for the first time Sara saw the white gleam of bone under the cabin lights.

"I don't feel anything," Greg muttered softly as Sara reached over, pulling back the torn fabric some. Greg winced, "Okay, I felt that."

"This is bad Greg, we need to get it looked at."

"It can wait," he told her softly, "I don't feel like going out again tonight."

"It can't wait," Sara argued, already pulling her boots back on. By the time she had pulled on her own gloves and hat, Greg still hadn't moved. His hand was bleeding more freely now, as the blood began to circulate back through his frozen limbs. Sara grabbed his boots, helping Greg slip them on, and tie them. When she was finished, Sara offered up her arm, pulling Greg to his feet.

He winced slightly, following her out the door as she grabbed her flashlight. Despite what he had said earlier, his hand was really starting to hurt now. Adding that to being cold, tired and upset, it did little to help his already miserable mood.

**TBC**

**I know I said R2R would be here, but I've been so busy as of late, will post them when I can, but I love the responses! You guys are awesome!**


	8. Simple Words

**Chapter Eight: Simple Words**

Greg grimaced as the small needle was inserted into his skin, pulling the long thread-like material after it, slowly pulling close the gash in his hand. He was thankful for the numbing agent the doctor had given him before setting the bone back into place, holding it firmly as he worked to stitch close the wound.

"You're lucky," the doctor told him, pulling the strand tight before tying it off. The doctor held his index, middle and ring finger together, making sure the bone was intact before wrapping it tightly in a protective casing before pulling the gauze around it.

"It was a clean break of the middle metacarpal, straight through the skin, painful, but fairly easy to set. It'll take a little longer to heal than a regular fracture, but you shouldn't have any complications after it does, though therapy wouldn't be a bad idea."

"But it will be okay?" Sara asked, watching as he finished.

"I a few months, yes," he picked up a chart, scribbling on it quickly. "The store has a pharmacy, in the back. Take this to them, get some pain medication; this is better than Advil and all those other ones. If the pain gets too bad, try soaking it in warm water, that should help. Use your hand no more than you have to. The cast will help secure the bones, but they still can move. Check back in about a week and a half, we'll see where you are then."

Sara shook her head, folding her arms. "You would have to think you did some damage to whoever you knocked with an injury like that."

"Not necessarily," the doctor looked up as he handed the paper to Greg. "A break like that, you're looking for something harder than a person's face. Mainly because your friend here is right handed, and the injury is to his left hand, and it's consistent with a downward injury. Normally these are seen with a sideways break or fracture."

"Could a flashlight cause this maybe?" Sara asked, after thinking for a moment.

The doctor nodded, "A metal flashlight, if the person was swinging it a downward motion and your friend caught it with an upward blow. That's very possible."

She nodded, "How much do we owe you?"

The doctor shook his head, "Don't worry about it, the convention covers all injuries. That's why Stiles didn't want any fighting. I don't blame him; he doesn't have a fortune to spend patching people up. Go get the meds, then get some rest." He shooed them out of the office.

When they returned to the cabin, Sara helped Greg take off his coat and shoes, despite the fact he insisted that he could do it on his own. After, she sat next to him on the couch, watching him as the silence went on. It was in the early hours of the morning now; the sun would be rising not too long from now.

"You still think about it?" Sara finally broke the silence, though her voice was not much louder.

For a moment Greg didn't respond, it was if he hadn't heard her, but finally he nodded, turning towards her.

"More often then enough. I try and forget about it, but for some reason I just can't," he stated.

Sara nodded, seemingly somewhat satisfied. "I thought they had killed you," she told him, finding that her hands were a lot more interesting to look at all of the sudden.

"But they didn't," Greg started, but was cut off from Sara.

"What if they did Greg? Then neither of us would be here now. I wouldn't have been able to make it through that night if it wasn't for you."

"Sure you would have," Greg told her, "you're tough."

"No…I mean," she let out a sigh, dropping her head into her hands. "I just don't get it."

"No one will understand why Sara, we can't say why stuff happens, it just does."

"That's not what I mean," she told him softly, wiping her eyes. "It doesn't matter what happens, it seems like you just bounce back from it. It's like it never even happened for you. Even after the lab explosion, I barely was caught in it, but still I was terrified to get even near the lab. Each time, I could see in my mind the fire and the smoke, the glass flying everywhere, and you…and you act like it never happened."

"Sara," Greg told her, leaning forward to place a hand on her shoulder, "Just because I don't say anything, doesn't mean I don't feel anything."

"Sure," Sara muttered, laughing softly, trying to shake off the sudden mood change.

"Honestly, after the explosion, I was afraid to go back to work. But it's what I loved doing, so I knew that I had to, if I wanted to continue doing what I enjoyed. I didn't say anything to anyone about my problems. I had trouble sleeping, and I felt sick whenever I was near the old lab there, and my hands," Greg explained, looking down at them. "I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking. It seemed like whatever I did, it wasn't enough. I tried ignoring it, hoping it would go away, but nothing seemed to work."

"They aren't shaking now," Sara muttered bitterly. She wasn't sure if what he was saying was true, or if he was just saying it to make her feel better.

"They calmed down after a while," Greg continued to explained. "Grissom even suggested I go in for counseling, but I declined. I felt that I could have handled it myself."

"You said you didn't tell anyone," Sara reminded him.

"I didn't" Greg confessed, "Grissom found out. Then he was upset with me for a while after because I didn't say anything sooner, and he wanted to know if it was affecting my work." He let out a sigh, seeing that none of this was convincing her.

Grabbing a hold of her shoulders he drew her gently into his hold, rubbing her back softly with his bandaged hand. She was tense under his hold, that much he could feel, but slowly, he felt her relax.

"You should try and get some sleep," Greg told her, knowing how tired she must be.

Sara shook her head, "Can't, I'm starving," she said with a little laugh. "I don't think I have to remind you that I didn't eat today."

"Well," Greg said, laughing as he gave her a tight hug, "if someone got up earlier than five minutes before class, they could eat something."

"And if someone didn't ruin a perfectly good lunch, they could have eaten too."

Greg smiled, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the forehead, "We could try the diner, it's open all night."

Sara nodded, sitting up after Greg let her go. "Here, I'll help you get your shoes on," she started, but Greg waved her off.

"If I'm going to have this thing on for the next couple of months, I need to learn to take care of myself."

Sara laughed, "Good luck, you can't even take care of yourself now."

He laughed sarcastically as she waited for him. After several attempts he gave her pleading, yet sheepish look. Sara giggled, dropping to her knees to help tie his laces. "Don't worry," she grinned at him, "You'll learn eventually."

"Yeah," Greg smiled, shaking his head, "Then I can sign up for one handed shoe lace tying competitions."

Sara laughed as she tied the last knot. "Come on, I'm starving," she responded, pulling on her own boots.

* * *

Neither of them slept that night, by the time they finished eating and returned to the cabin it was light outside. Still sleep wouldn't come for them. Greg was worried sick about what had happened; no doubt the entire town would know what had happened soon enough, not only about the night before, but as well as half a year ago. He wasn't ready to face the questions they would ask, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. Worse of all, he didn't know if he could protect Sara from it as well. She didn't deserve to be badgered about any of it.

Greg had been in and out of it for most of the ordeal; Sara had been awake nearly the entire time, from what he knew at least. She had seen a lot more than he had, a lot more than he would ever want to see.

Aside to that fact, the feeling in his hand was slowly coming back. And it hurt; quite badly he had to admit. If Sara noticed it, she didn't say anything. But he doubted she did, ever since coming back, she had been busy working on something, something that Greg couldn't see, and whenever he asked, she told him it was nothing.

Greg finally let her alone, picking his book up from the table next to the couch, trying to concentrate on something other than the pain. It wasn't that he enjoyed the pain; he hated taking medication, ever since he was little. Prescribed pills were worse, mainly because they were harder to swallow, and they came with a detestable drowsiness that you couldn't shake off. That plus the meds were in the cabinet above the sink, and that would require movement to get to them. At the moment, Greg wanted to do nothing of that sort.

It actually worked, for a bit anyways. More time had gone by than he assumed, engrossed in his book. It was his infuriated yell that surprised both him and Sara some time later. She looked up quickly where she sat on her bed, her back facing him.

"What?" she asked worriedly, watching him closely.

"The main character was just attacked by the villain and someone thought it would be humorous to glue the last four pages together!" Greg grumbled, snapping the book close. "I won't be able to find out what happens until we get back, that is so not cool."

Sara laughed softly, turning back to her project. "I never really took you for the reading type," she mentioned, still laughing.

"And why is that?" Greg wondered, still edgy about the unread ending. He was stretched out on the couch now, after starting from a sitting position. He legs were resting on the arm rests, the book now sitting in his lap, his good hand resting on the cover.

He could see Sara shrug, "I don't know, you just seem more like the adventure kind of guy, all go and no stop. I see you more as jumping-out-of-airplanes-bungee-jumping-deep-sea-diver-surfing-slash-scuba-diving type of junkie that doesn't know when to stop."

Greg nodded, "So, you never saw me as the night-working-evidence-collecting-microscope-viewing-DNA-analizing-junkie who never gets enough sleep?"

"Never," she answered in sweet tone.

"Well, that's good; I've never really seen you as a work-aholic."

"I'm not a work-aholic," Sara detested, but there was humor in her voice.

"You are too," Greg argued, smirking slightly even though she couldn't see him.

"I am not," she stated once again.

"Yes you are," Greg was nearly laughing now; it took all his will power not too.

"Okay, what do you see me as then?"

"A very beautiful women who is often misjudged and completely misunderstood at times."

To this Sara did not make a reply, and an uneasy silence passed by them. Greg finally risked breaking the silence.

"I can't believe I just said that," Greg laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Sara encouraged him, "you're right." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "And I'm glad there's someone like you who can see me for who I really am."

Greg just shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. "What are you doing?"

"I'm almost finished," Sara told him. A few minutes later she swung her legs off the bed, coming over to him.

"I picked these up when we got your meds, had to work on them though, with your hand and all."

Greg nearly laughed at the gloves she had presented him with, the left one had the stitching removed from the three middle fingers, and was sewn back together as a whole, so that it would fit over his cast and bandages.

"I didn't know you could sew," Greg admitted, as he let her help pull the fabric on.

Sara just grinned, "Learned it in High School, counselor said I would love the class."

"Did you?"

"Loved the class, hated the teacher," she explained quickly.

"On the bad side?" Greg wondered, inspecting the newly modeled glove. It felt odd, but it fit nicely, and would work well in keeping his hand warm in the sub-freezing temperatures.

"No," Sara said with a shrug, "the teacher thought it was necessary to explain every last detail. First day of class, she spent twenty minutes explaining how to cook a bag of popcorn."

Greg laughed, "No way."

Sara nodded, "Yes way. It was our first assignment too. It was like that for 180 days. I nearly celebrated when we had substitutes."

"Sad," Greg said with a smile. Sara returned the smile, and for while no one spoke. Greg finally shifted, looking out the window. It was still in the early part of the day. "You want to do something?" he asked, "We don't have class until Monday again."

Sara shrugged, "There really isn't much to do. The road's closed below us so that ops out anything to do in Portland, or the other towns around here."

"What about hiking?" Greg suggested.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "In this weather?"

Greg shrugged, looking away. It was a long shot idea, mostly stupid, but he was just giving suggestions. He was surprised when Sara shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

"Really," Greg asked, surprise lining his features.

Sara nodded, "Nothing better to do. Let's go see what trails are open."

Greg sat up, smiling some. "Okay, let's go hike."

* * *

They had spent the rest of the day looking over the trails that surrounded the mountain. At the front of the store, a large map that covered half the wall, outlined all the paths in red colored pencil. Greg and Sara picked out several trails that seemed interesting, before agreeing on one that followed along the slope of the mountain, past a small lake where they could take their lunch. That night they had packed bags, and left early the next morning, flashlights in their hands.

It was slightly warmer than the day before, not by much however. The pair was slowly becoming accustomed to the drastic change in temperature. When they left Vegas nearly a week ago, the highs were in the eighties. Here, the highs were in the twenties.

Sara let out a sigh, her breathe leaving a visible trail floating up towards the treetops. "You had to pick the roughest trail," she complained, emphasizing each word with every step she took.

"Hey," Greg slowed down just enough to take a look over his shoulder at her. "You agreed on this trail too, may I remind you."

"That was before I knew it was like this," She shot back.

He grinned at her before turning back around to see where he was going. It was light outside now, close to noon Greg supposed, but he could be quite sure. They had passed the third mile marker a while back, and since then, the trail had become steeper, and it was clear by the amount of snow piled up, that it had not been traveled recently.

"The lake shouldn't be too far now," Greg called back over his shoulder, grabbing onto several branches as the ground became slippery. "Watch you step, we have some ice up here," he warned.

Sara nodded, holding onto the same branches as Greg had as she crossed over the ice patch, falling in directly behind Greg as the path became narrower. They continued like this for some time, taking each step carefully. Most of the area up here had frozen over, and it was making the hike even harder.

Sara came to a stop behind Greg, who had taken a moment to rest, and survey the area around them. She didn't say anything, only watched as he glanced around, a wistful look settling on his face with each passing minute. "We should head back," Greg told her, to which she nodded.

It was getting too dangerous, the path had taken a sharp turn upward, running alongside a long sloping hill, and with the ground being loaded with patches of ice, things could get precarious. "It was fun while it lasted," Sara suggested, and indeed it had. One of the reasons they had left so early was to avoid any questions from the previous night. There was no doubt that word had already gotten around town of the fight that had broken out, and Sara knew that neither her nor Greg were ready to answer any questions.

Taking the lead, Sara slowly made her way back down that path, being as a careful as she was coming up. She could hear Greg behind her, the steady crunching of his boots in the slick snow. It definitely would be nice to be back on steady ground.

Greg had been disappointed, he had wanted to continue, mainly because he hadn't wanted to go back quite yet. He would be glad when this seminar was over. Things were beginning to bother him; he wanted to know what the rumors were about, the ones that were floating around the town. He had only caught some of what they were, it was about the two of them, but what exactly, he wasn't sure. To make matters worse, he was afraid to find out how many people knew about their accident half a year ago. Greg had tried his hardest to forget about it, but still, the smallest things brought back the memories. He no longer shopped in small stores, and avoided trunks as much as possible. Though sometimes he found himself thinking about it even without anything provoking him.

A cry from Sara shook him free of his thoughts, and looked up just in time to see Sara slipping, straight down the side of the hill. At first he could only watch, him mind taking a second to register what was actually happening.

"Sara!" Greg yelled, moving after her quickly, trying to find the easiest way down the steep hill. Finally giving up in his task, he just jumped over the small ridge, half sliding half running down, doing his best to avoid the trees that were in his way.

He yelled her name again as she came to a stop at the bottom, where the ground flattened out, but she didn't get up. It was a distraction that cost him, taking his eyes off where he was going, it ended up sending him into a head first roll the rest of the way down. And for the first time since the two had passed by on the trail, all was quite in the glen.

**TBC**

* * *

**To all my wonderful reviewers! **

**Some guesses on the 'villian' I guess you could call it, won't say if you are right or wrong, I haven't elborated on too much of that yet, but it will start to get into by the next chapter. Keep reviewing, and when I get a decent break from work, meaning a day where I actually work less than 10 hours, I may actaully have time enough to respond toeveryone! Cheers for now, keep reading, keep reviewing!**


	9. Not Quite Ready

**Chapter Nine: Not Quite Ready**

Greg didn't move when he came to stop, only lay there, blinking as he drew in a deep breath. Flat on his stomach, he curled the fingers of his good hand in the snow as he waited for the world to stop spinning around him. Truth be told he was more stunned than hurt.

Finally, shaking his head as if to clear out the ringing in his ears, he pushed himself to his feet, moving over to Sara carefully. He was relieved to find a pulse, as he rested his fingers against her neck; he could also see her short breaths, the moisture disappearing into the snow, melting it just a tiny bit.

Spinning on his heal, Greg ran over to where his backpack lay, now white from the fall. He had lost it on the way down, and was glad that it hadn't snagged on a tree. Pulling out the walkie talkie he had packed earlier, he switched it on carefully, moving back over to Sara.

"Can anyone hear me?" Greg asked, once switching it to the main channel. He had no idea where the signal went, but only hoped someone was there. "I need medical attention roughly three miles west on Dubles Trail, is someone there, please answer me."

He gritted his teeth when the only response he received was static. Sara was still unconscious, and Greg was afraid to move her, unsure of what damage she had taken in the fall. He could see she had taken a few blows to the face, small scratches around her mouth and upper cheekbones were beginning to bleed, but they didn't look deep.

"This is Gregory Sanders, I'm three miles west on Dubles Trail, we have had an accident, and are requesting medical aid immediately, is anyone there?"

Still nothing, Greg was beginning to get irritated. They had brought them along because Detective Stiles had issued them, told them it was the only way to reach the main cabin from the trails. And now, when they needed it the most, no one was around to answer their call.

A soft groan brought Greg's attention back to Sara, as she let out a pained sigh, her eyes opening just a little. Greg had a hand on her shoulder, watching her closely. "Take it easy," he told her gently, "I'm calling for help, or at least I'm trying."

Sara's eyes snapped open, as she sat up quickly, despite Greg's efforts to keep her lying down. He was able to keep her sitting, at the very least. "I'm fine," she muttered, rubbing her face, "I'm okay, really," she continued to stammer.

"Just take it easy, you had quite a fall," he grimaced, seeing the cut on her forehead that had begun to bleed. Reaching over with the thumb of his good hand, he flicked away the snow that clung to the open wound. Sara winced, reaching up with her own hand to cover it, as if feeling the cut for the first time.

"Is anyone there?" Greg called back into the walkie talkie, desperate for someone to answer. He was relieved when he received one.

"This is Detective Stiles, who is speaking?"

"Greg Sanders, I need some medical aid, three miles in on Dubles Trail, my partner's taken a fall and she needs to be looked over."

"I'll send some aid out now, we'll be there when we get there, just hold on."

Greg thanked the detective, crouching down next to Sara. He hadn't a high favor for the detective, but he was grateful that help was on the way. "It shouldn't be too long," he convinced her, "They know these trails really well, and they can also use snowmobiles to get her in over half the time it took us."

Sara didn't respond, she was staring at something, Greg thought perhaps she was in a trance. After calling her name again, and still receiving no response, Greg followed her gaze over to what looked like a pile of leaves. Greg frowned, turning back to Sara.

"Those are leaves right?" Sara asked him softly. Greg wanted to agree, but he knew the same thing she did. It was in the dead of winter, leaves didn't grow in the dead of winter, and if there were any leaves, they would be under the three feet of snow, not on the top of it.

"I'm going to check it out," Greg told her before standing up, "Stay here."

He walked slowly, taking his time as he made his way over there. His nose wrinkled as the smell hit him, a smell he knew by heart, one that no one could pass by without knowing. The smell of death.

Greg coughed, covering his mouth and nose with one hand as he came closer, the smell getting stronger. He grimaced as he came to a stop, looking down on the form of a young man, who couldn't have been any older than he was, if he were still alive that was.

He glanced up as Sara came next to him, surprise lining his features. "Sara? I told you to stay there, you shouldn't be up," he chided her, turning her away.

Sara wasn't paying any attention to him, only staring at the body, her face pale. Her mouth was slightly ajar, as she breathed in heavily. Greg watched, concerned as she didn't move, then suddenly turned away quickly. Sara had only taken a few steps before hunching over, her stomach heaving.

"Sara?" Greg called after her, concern filling him even more now. The only thing he was able to do was hold her hair back as she continued to heave, her heavy breathing evident. After a final heave, she hastily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, straightening up. He could see tears in her eyes as she shook slightly in his hold.

After making certain that her stomach wouldn't act up again, Greg walked her away from the body, sitting her down on a log. He reached for the walkie talkie again, pressing the button once more.

"This is Greg Sanders still requesting medical help, we also have a 419, does anyone hear me?"

"This is Detective Stiles," the walkie talkie came to life almost immediately, causing Greg to roll his eyes. Couldn't get help for the living, but no one was willing to pass up a DB.

"Are you stating that you have a crime scene?"

Greg nodded, even though the only who could see him was Sara, and she seemed as though she wasn't paying any attention.

"Yes sir, a DB about fifty feet away from us."

"Don't touch anything," Stiles' demanded, causing Greg to roll his eyes. "Help will be there soon."

Greg put the walkie talkie down, turning back to Sara. Letting out a sigh, Greg reached up, wiping the edge of her lip. She looked at him for the first time, the tears still evident in her eyes.

"You okay?" Greg asked softly, watching her.

Sara started to nod, only to stop and end it with a violent shake. "I…haven't gotten sick like that, in years," she told him softly, rubbing her eyes as she shed a few tears.

Greg smiled at her, taking her hand in his, hoping to lighten the mood, "Well, you did just take a one way trip down memory lane, or should I say hill? Maybe cliff would fit better. Besides that, I told you that you needed to stay sitting down."

She pushed his hand away, looking back into his eyes. "You and I both know that's not the reason why," she turned away, "I told Grissom that I was ready. I really thought I was."

Greg moved her hair back from her face, rubbing his hand against her cheek, among all the scratches. "Hey now, you took quite a hit to the head," he told her, placing his hand against the cut. Once again, she turned away, pulling from his touch.

Greg let out a sigh, wanting to comfort her, but unsure how. "Listen, you just need more time, we both do."

"Right, I didn't see you puking your guts out," Sara told him.

Greg fidgeted, looking down at the snow, "I really didn't get a good look," he responded.

She laughed coldly, her eyes searching the area around them, unwilling to focus on him. "You are such a horrible liar Greg," she commented.

Greg laughed to himself, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he told her, earning a small chuckle. It was start. "Just give it time Sara, that's all you need."

"How much time Greg," she asked, "how long do I have to spend working like this? Doing these type of things, I want things to be how they were before. I mean, we survived, we should be stronger now, but I feel, weak, it's so unfair, it's like I've taken a step backwards. I don't know what to do. I can't live like this Greg," she pleaded.

Greg bit his lip, looking down, then back up again. "I don't know what to say Sara, or what you want me too say. Maybe we need to go back into therapy, maybe we need more counseling, maybe you need to talk to someone else besides me. Perhaps we need to open up to our other friends, they can help us, you know."

Sara shook her head, "I can barely talk about it with you Greg, you can't expect me to tell everyone else. I rather them not know, they pity us enough already."

"No one pities us Sara," he started, but she cut in.

"Yes they do, that's why we are here, that's why we've been doing nothing but lab work since, they feel sorry for us, they think we're made of glass. Maybe you like being treated that way, but I don't!"

"Hey," Greg said softly, not willing to get into an argument with her. "They care about us, they just want to make sure we are okay. They don't realize what they are doing, all we have to do is tell them that. Maybe talking to the others will help get this thing behind us. What's the worse that can happen?"

Sara shook her head, "No, no talking, to anyone, I'm sick of therapy, I'm sick of everything…I just want things to be normal. But with each passing day, I feel less and less like normal. I've become a different person."

She let out a sigh, dropping her head against her chest. Greg was saved from answering as several motors hummed, splitting through the air. Greg smiled at her, even though he felt sick inside. He didn't like the way Sara was talking. "I told you they would be long," he said, standing to wave them down.

It took them only a few minutes to find a path down, the group consisted of Detective Stiles himself, along with the doctor that had helped Greg a few days ago. Larry pulled him to the side after he had caught the doctor up on what happened.

"Portland CSI has been notified, they're flying in to take the case, they'll want both of your statements."

Greg nodded, watching Sara as the doctor looked her over, talking to her quietly. "How long?"

"Not much longer here, you two okay?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, I think everything will be fine."

Larry nodded, as the doctor finished, coming back to Greg. "Mild concussion, scratches and bruising, but nothing to really worry about. Plenty of rest, and easy go for the next few days."

"Thanks," Greg told the doctor, relived. The older man smiled.

"How is your hand?"

Greg shrugged, "Hurts, but that's a given."

He nodded, saying his goodbyes as he left the area, they had come in on separate snowmobiles. Larry had walked back to his, handing Greg a blanket, in which he draped over Sara's shoulder. Sitting behind her, he let Sara lean against him, rubbing her arms gently until the CSI did arrive.

It was near an hour later that one of them finally made their way over to them. The older man, short yet skinny was already going bald. He shook both their hands, crouching down to their level so Sara wouldn't have to stand.

"I'm CSI Tom Parry, I'm just going to ask a few questions here, and then you can be on your way."

Greg nodded, still holding Sara as the man continued. "When did you find the body?"

"Just over an hour ago," Greg told him quietly. "Sara fell down the hill, and I followed, of course. The body wasn't too far away from where we ended up."

Tom nodded, scribbling on a piece of notepad paper. "Did you touch anything, move the body?"

"We are certified CSI agents," Greg told him, "We know better than to touch a scene before it's been cleared."

Tom nodded, sympathizing with him, "I know, but it is protocol, just doing my job."

"I know," Greg said fighting off a sigh.

"Did one of you get sick?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, Sara got up too quickly after hitting her head, and her stomach disagreed."

Tom continued to scribble on the note pad; the questioning went on like this for some time, Greg answering them all. Sara didn't speak once, her head against Greg's chest as she fought of the sensation of sleep. Finally Tom stood, nodding his thanks.

"If we need anything further, we can find you back in town, correct?"

Greg nodded, "For the next two weeks yeah, after that we return to Las Vegas."

Tom smiled, "Thanks, you're free to go now."

Larry met with them as soon as Tom had left. "I have room for one person," he said, "if you don't want to walk back, I'll send another snowmobile out for you, but we can at least get her back, so she can rest."

Greg nodded, helping her stand up. "Yeah, I'll just walk, it'll go faster."

Larry agreed as he mounted the snowmobile, waiting for Sara to get on behind him. Greg helped her on, ignoring her mutterings that she could walk back just fine. "I'll meet you back at the cabin," Greg told her, smiling as Larry took off slowly.

Greg watched until they had disappeared from sight before moving. He felt very much alone now, as he collected both his backpack, and Sara's that had been forgotten in all the rush. He was about to head on his way out when Tom called to him.

"We're packing up now if you want some company," he told him. Greg welcomed it, knowing that it would be safer as well. For the first time in a long while, Greg wanted nothing more than to see Sara, a sickening feeling rising in his stomach as everything began to sink in.

**TBC**

* * *

**Mellaithwen- **Long chapter yeah, I'm trying to get into long chapters, this story is going to be on the longer side already, not sure how long, but it's looking around the twenty chapter range. But things change, so who knows, I mean, On the Edge was only supposed to be five chapters…oops:P

Yes, both teachers, as well as the fall down the hillside, personal experience. Trust me, watching a friend fall down a hill like that isn't very much fun. Telling their parents what happened was even worse. Had one teacher that loved giving notes nearly every day, and another teacher I had to put up with every day for a year that felt the need to explain every little detail about everything. And yes, cooking a bag of popcorn in the microwave was our first assignment, and she did take twenty minutes explaining how to do so as well.

Work hasn't been so nice lately, and the next few weeks are even worse. The next few weeks consist of me running the lab while my boss is a few thousand miles away attending meetings, two business dinners, which will be my first ever, and several ppl coming to watch how we work in the lab. And I do actually work longer than I get paid for as well, most of my time this weekend has been spent on paperwork, no pay included, worked from 11 to 8 today, and it looks like it'll be that way tomorrow. So not too much writing for me, unless it's late at night as it is now, err…morning I should say…:D

**Ms. Elizabeth Granger- **Sledding is so much fun! Would you believe that I have lived only two hours away from the mountains my entire life, and went sledding for my first time just last year? Way too much fun, I nearly even killed myself one time, nearly crashed into a tree…hehe. You are very nice to leave Sara and Greg hanging like that as well, but then again, I'm no better.

**LuvinNickyStokes- **So many thoughts, so little time ey? I probably should get them some signs to hang around their necks, 'bad luck follows us' or something along those lines, that is, when I write about them.

**SLynn- **I'm not evil, or malevolent for that matter. Demonic? Maybe just a little, I'll give you that one. Hum, and angst competition, that would be really interesting to see, though I doubt Greg and Sara would enjoy it very much…where did they go by the way? glances over shoulder

**And of course, thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, you are the ones who keep the story a posting! Read and enjoy, and as always, review!**


	10. Night Time Fears

**Chapter Ten: NightTimeFears**

Sara was asleep when Greg finallyarrived back at the cabin, the two Portland CSI agents saw him to his door, before heading back to their waiting chopper. Greg had thanked them thoroughly for their company; it had taken his mind off of the incident for the three miles, making the journey much quicker than it would have been if he had gone alone.

Not wanting to wake her, Greg stayed quiet as he possible could, spending his time straightening the place up, knowing that if he didn't, then Sara would, and Sara was in no condition to clean.

Sara slept the rest of the day, and clear through the night. She was still sleeping when Greg woke up, checking the clock on the table. It was near seven in the morning, and he shook his head, he hadn't intended to sleep that night, he wanted to keep an eye on Sara.

Stretching, he made his way over to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed and just watching her for a moment. He could see that her cuts had been cleaned, and though they looked better, an uneven bruising had settled across her face; her left eye swollen, and a cut above her lip.

Not that he looked any better; his own face had bruises running the length of his cheekbone, and just above his left eye. All in all the pair looked as if they had fought each other.

Sara shifted, rolling to her side, lying like that for a moment. Then she groaned, opening her eyes, watching him for a minute before closing them. "What time is it?" she asked him softly.

"Seven, give or take a few minutes"

"In the morning?" she asked groggily. Opening her eyes again she watched him, and neither spoke for a while.

"How are you feeling?" Greg asked, breaking the prolonged silence.

"Ugh," Sara answered, provoking a chuckle from both of them. "Better than before I guess, but still, pretty much ugh."

"You think you can hold anything down?" Greg asked, smiling.

"Why," she wondered, "what did you make?"

"Nothing," he admitted, "I was thinking about going to the diner again, they weren't too bad."

"I suppose," Sara stated, yawning, "I'm pretty hungry right now."

Greg nodded, "Only if you think you can eat. I can make something here for you if you want."

Sara waved him off, sitting up slowly. "No, no, I want to go. Maybe some fresh air will help."

Greg smiled, "Okay, okay. Just take your time getting ready, we don't have to hurry."

She nodded, getting all the way up now. She was still lightheaded, and she rested a moment before moving on. Greg made certain that she would be okay before letting her go, and moving to get ready himself. She took longer than normal; the temperature had taken another nosedive over night, and was now in single digits for the highs. It was one thing Sara would be grateful to get rid of when the returned home.

The diner was busy that morning, more so than Greg thought it would be. If had known that it would have been like this, he wouldn't of suggested coming. But Sara had enjoyed the change. She was feeling much better than before and getting outside had helped clear her head some.

They had already ordered their meals when Greg excused himself to the front to get some more coffee. He was pouring it when Jim came up alongside him, getting his own cup as well.

"How's the hand?" Jim asked him, nodding to him as a greeting.

"You heard about that too?" Greg asked, chuckling inwardly.

"News travels fast in this town," Jim said, to which Greg nodded.

"So I've heard."

"You ever drink?" Jim asked him suddenly.

Greg watched him for a moment, before stirring his coffee with a spoon. "Sometimes, why?"

"You do know that alcoholic beverages are not allowed in this area during these training sessions, right?"

"With all due respect sir," Greg stated, "I haven't had anything to drink for a few months now."

Jim nodded, but continued on. "You ever loose your temper then?"

"Why all these questions?"

"As a Detective, I notice things that other people don't. It is my job. I'm only trying to protect certain people."

"You think I need protection?" Greg wondered, lifting an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee. Jim reached around him for the creamer as he continued.

"I'm referring to your partner, Sara."

"Sara needs protection? From what?"

"From people like you," Jim stated, causing a bitter scoff from Greg.

"Why do you say something like that?" Greg didn't like the direction that the conversation was going in.

"You don't actually expect me to believe she got those bruises herself, do you?"

"For a town in which words travel so quickly I'm surprised you haven't heard about our accident on the trail," Greg commented dryly.

"I heard," Jim stated, "But I've seen enough abuse cases to know better."

Greg shook his head angrily. "I'm done with the conversation," he was heading back towards Sara when Jim caught his arm, redirecting his attention as he leaned in closer to young CSI.

"I will find out what's going on, and you'll find yourself dealing with abuse charges."

"I told you that I was done with this conversation," Greg said coldly, glaring at him evenly. "Now, if you don't let me go, I will file a harassment charge."

Jim straightened up, letting go of him. Picking up his own coffee, Jim nodded at him as he walked by. "Enjoy the rest of your day Sanders," he said, his tone flat.

Greg was nearly fuming by the time he reached the table, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Sara looked up, surprised, stopping in the middle of taking another bite of her own food. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said shortly, resting his head against his good hand as he stared ahead, particularly at nothing. His hunger had suddenly vanished, his mood incensed.

Sara frowned at him, "You expect me to buy that?" she asked, putting her fork down on her napkin. "What happened?"

"He thinks I hit you," Greg spat out, drawing in deep breath to try and calm himself down.

Sara nearly laughed, "Who?"

"The detective, Jim what's his face," Greg let out stressed sigh as he rubbed his face.

"He can't be serious," Sara told him softly.

"Oh he is," Greg answered, looking back up there, "he's filing charges."

"On what evidence? Because I have a few bruises after falling down a mountain? I'm lucky I didn't break my neck."

Greg nodded silently, but didn't comment. Sara shook her head, "Don't worry about it," she told him, "The medics checked me out, Stiles was there, they know what happened."

"Sara," Greg lowered his voice, watching her, "I can loose my job over this, if files are charged against me, and later we prove that it never happened, I can still get fired."

"Grissom would never fire you over that Greg," Sara said quickly, defending their boss.

"It's not Grissom I'm worried about, it's Ecklie," he pushed his plate away, knowing that he would never be able to finish eating now.

"Come on Greg, how many people back at the lab would actually even think that you could possibly hit me?"

"The people back at the lab are not the ones who would be looking over the charges Sara. I don't want to talk about this, it's just," he let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "I can't handle it right now."

Sara nodded, sitting up some. Her appetite was gone now as well, as she pushed her own plate towards the end of the table next to Greg's. The two split the cost of the uneaten lunch, and left, heading back to their cabin where they spent the rest of the day.

* * *

The soft humming of the clock was the only sounds that night, minus the gentle breathing. The red numbers on the face indicated that it was just past midnight; the two had gone to sleep around nine. Sara was now awake, leaning against the headboard with her knees drawn up under her chin, a heavy blanket draped around her slim frame.

The numbers changed again; she had been watching them change every sixty seconds since an hour after turning in for the night. She couldn't get past how red they were, red like the blood…

She shivered, pulling the blankets tighter. It wasn't the first time she had nightmares, she had been having them ever since she and Greg were taken hostage. Sometimes she was able to sleep the whole day, given enough time to get ready for work. But there were times she would have several a day. None were very long, but they were vivid enough to keep her awake the rest of the time. But there was one that occurred more often than all the others.

It wasn't the same exact thing every time she had it, little variations would occur, but they all ended the same way. The gun would fire, and there would be Greg, just out of her reach on the floor, his eyes open slightly as he bled to death.

Sara covered her mouth as she let out a choked cry. Greg shifted softly in his own bed, and Sara held her breath until she was certain he wasn't going to wake up. Shakily she made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her moments before getting sick. She was only thankful there wasn't that much to get rid of; granted she had hardly eaten since the last time she got sick, up on the trail the day before.

Leaning against the sink, Sara splashed a few handfuls of water on her face, washing her mouth out at the same time. She glanced up into the mirror that hung just inches in front of her, trembling softly. Her face was pale, making the bruising stand out it sharply in contrast. Her hair was disheveled due to her new, sudden habit of leaving a warm cap on her head during the day. Tracing her fingertips across the bruising and cuts, Sara let out a soft groan, ignorant of how terrible she actually looked until now.

Sliding to the floor, Sara rested against the cold tiled wall, shivering as she curled in on herself. She felt like she was going to get sick again, but not wanting to move she just laid her head down on her arms, closing her eyes as she fought off the nauseating feeling.

Her shoulders shook lightly as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She hated feeling like this, feeling so weak, and unable to control her emotions. Half the time she felt sick, the pressure of not sleeping and the thoughts overwhelming her at times. Stress was now an even bigger factor in her life. Sure, she had been stressed before, work was the main cause, but now with another source of stress from her nightmares was proving to be too much for her to handle.

After a while, Sara felt well enough to head back to bed, though she doubted any sleep would come. Shivering, she shut the lights off behind her as she stumbled through the dark.

"Sara?"

She came to a stop as Greg called her name, arms folded across her chest. She watched as he scooted over closer to the wall, pulling the blankets back as he sat up some. She hesitated a moment, before making her way slowly over to the bed, crawling under the covers next to him.

Now eyelevel with Greg, Sara could see the strain in his own eyes, suggesting that he hadn't had a restful night either. Greg reached an arm around her, rubbing her back in small circular motions. "Another nightmare?" he asked softly.

She only stared at him, her mouth open slightly. How did he know? She hadn't told anyone about them.

"I have them too, you know," he told her, as if seeing the questioning in her eyes. "You want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head, staring up at the ceiling. If she couldn't even think about them without getting sick, there was no way possible that she would be able to talk about. Sara expected Greg to prompt her, but was surprised when she felt him nod.

"Okay," he said gently. "Try and get some sleep," he started, ignoring her quiet protest. "I'll wake you if you have another one."

She turned towards him, "You would…do that?" she asked softly.

Greg nodded, rubbing her face gently, "I promise," he told her, "just try and get some rest."

Sara nodded in return as she laid her head against Greg's chest, relaxing into his hold as he continued to rub her back. She was exhausted, but unsure if she could actually fall asleep again. It was, however, the first time in many months that she felt safe once again.

**TBC**


	11. Interrogation

**Lots and Lots of thanks to my many reviewers who leave such wonderful comments. They are what keep this story going!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Interrogation**

Greg fought off another yawn, his eyes flicking from Sara to the clock, raising his head some in order to see the time. It was nearly eight; Sara had fallen asleep again only minutes after calming her down. Greg could tell by the way she had relaxed, her breathing light and easy, rather than tight and strained as it was when she first laid down next to him.

As he had promised, he stayed awake that night, but once asleep, Sara hadn't stirred. Greg wished the same was for him. He was beyond exhaustion. The last few days had not gone very well in his opinion. It had taken a toll on both of them. It had been harder on Sara; he could see that easily enough. He couldn't help but worry over her, and it only seemed to drain him even more.

He closed his eyes, laying his head back down next to Sara's. He was so tired. It felt as though he could sleep for two days straight. He opened his eyes again when there was a knock on the door. Groaning he raised his head, looking as if he could see the person there, but of course, he would have to get up before that happened.

"Sara," he nudged her gently. "Come on Sara, wake up."

She groaned, muttering something as she turned away from him, her eyes still closed.

Greg laughed softly, "Why? Well, for starters, I can't feel my arm anymore, and secondly, someone's at the door."

He watched as she opened her eyes, blinking a few times as his words registered. Then, without warning, she sat up quickly, moving to get up; but becoming entangled in the sheets at the same time, she fell directly to the floor. Greg moved to catch her, holding onto her arm as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"You okay?" Greg asked, relived to find that she was laughing.

"Yeah," she smiled up at him, kicking her feet free of the mess as he let her go. She grimaced, standing up. "They need to make these floors softer," she complained.

Greg laughed along with her as he climbed out of bed, rubbing his arm as he made his way to the door as Sara went into the bathroom. It took a moment for Greg to unlock the door, poking his head out in order to keep as much heat inside as possible.

He was surprised to see Randolph standing outside, Greg moved to invite him inside, but the detective just shook his head. "I'm just here to let the both of you know you need to be down at the town house in an hour."

Greg frowned, "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Just don't be late," Randolph told him quietly. There was something else in his voice that Greg nearly missed; concern.

Greg watched the detective walk away, there hadn't even been a goodbye said, he had just left. Closing the door he made his way to the couch, sitting down with a sigh. Sara was leaning against the bathroom door, in the process of brushing her teeth. She had wanted to do so last night, but never really got the chance.

"Who was that?" she asked, or at least he thought she asked, she was somewhat hard to understand.

"Detective Randolph," Greg said quietly, chewing on his thumbnail. He had a bad habit of doing that when he was nervous. Sara knew that as well.

"What's wrong?" she asked, disappearing back into the bathroom.

"I don't know," Greg commented, "he wouldn't say. We need to get down to the townhouse though, by nine."

Sara came back out, using a towel to wipe her face. "That building next to our class?" Sara asked. Greg nodded. "Why?"

Greg let out a long sigh, "I don't know," he said slowly; somewhat irritated he had to answer the question twice. He wondered if Sara expected his answer to change within minutes.

"Well, don't get mad at me," Sara said testy.

Greg shook his head, "I'm not, I mean, I'm sorry. I'm really tired right now, and I have a bad feeling about all of this."

Sara sat down next to him, resting her elbows on her knees as she watched him. "I know," she told him, "I didn't mean for you to stay awake all night though. But it meant a lot."

Greg shrugged, leaning back against the cushion. "I don't mind, but if I don't get some sleep soon I'll end up sleeping during class."

"Doesn't sound like that bad of an idea," Sara joked, smiling when she was able to get Greg to laugh.

He nodded, "We should get ready," he told her, standing. "Randolph said not to be late."

They didn't take long, leaving early in order to find the town house. It was their first time inside, being twenty minutes early Sara and Greg were welcomed inside into a small waiting room. The edgy feeling Greg had early only increased with the passing minutes. No one spoke to them during that time; it was as if the pair was invisible. Then as nine o'clock came around, they were greeted by detective Stiles, Neff and Randolph, who led them to a different enclosed room. It wasn't much different than their own interrogation room back at the lab.

"What is this all about?" Greg asked, taking a seat near Sara. The three detectives had sat down across from them, talking quietly amongst themselves before Stiles turned to Sara, standing back up.

"Miss Sidle, would you come with me please?"

Sara gave him a questioning look, turning to Greg who had the same expression. He nodded, and Sara followed him with a frown. Once the door closed, Detective Neff spoke up.

"We are here to determine whether Sidle's fall down the mountain was accidental, or the effect of coercion inflicted before the fall."

Greg's jaw nearly hit the table. "What?"

"The bruising on Sidle's face is not consistent with a fall," Neff continued, but Randolph cut him off.

"Jim, please, we don't know that yet," the older man told him. Randolph focused his attention back on Greg, his tone lighter this time. "We are just following procedure, you understand."

Greg said nothing, only letting out a sigh as he crossed his arms. He wondered if Sara was watching this, wondering if she was just as angry, or worse, angrier.

"Our records indicate you started a fight a few days back," Neff continued after a moment of silent, pushing a paper towards him.

Greg didn't even look at it, instead holding an even gaze with the detective. "I did not start the fight. They engaged first."

"But you still were in a fight, yes?"

Greg nodded, "What does that have to do with this?"

"Well," Neff said slowly, "It shows that you loose your temper easily."

"Some guy takes a swing at the both of us, what am I supposed to do? Stand there and let them beat us up? I'm going to defend myself." His tone was getting irate, Greg could tell by the way Randolph shifted in his chair. Neff however didn't take his eyes off the young CSI.

"You still fought back, and that looks bad on your record. You wouldn't want your supervisor to know that, would you?"

"Are you blackmailing me?" Greg asked, incredulous.

Randolph waved the two of them off. "No, we are not," the detective stated, sitting up. Jim interfered before he could say another word though.

"So you want to tell us what happened?"

"My story is not going to change, I gave you the truth, and if you don't believe that, then I'm sorry, I can't help you anymore."

Randolph nodded, his facial expression telling Greg that he understood. Believed him? Maybe not, but at the very least understood him.

But it was apparent that Jim Neff wasn't going to back down. "Let me tell you the way I see it. The two of you go on a hike, let out some steam. Sara is your equal now, you can't dominate her like you normally do, but out away from town, you can really let your frustrations free. Remind her of her place in your, so called relationship. You don't want her to get cocky, don't want her to think things are changing because of the situation you are in. So you give her a few smacks, and she fights back. Something you were not expecting, and in the process, the both of you fall down the mountain side. Perfect story of what happened, and finding the DB was a perk, it would draw attention away from your 'accident'."

Greg could only shake his head the entire time, his expression changing from one of bewilderment to resentment as the detective continued on.

Next to him Randolph tried to intervene several times, but Jim was on a roll now, and it was apparent he wasn't going to stop.

"You know, its people like you that really tick me off, once we get a confession from you, and from Sara, I will lock you away for life. If you don't believe me, then just try."

A slamming of a fist on the table startled both Greg and Neff, turning to see a very livid Randolph. "Detective, outside, now." He spoke each word slowly, the fury behind them evident. Jim hadn't taken it very well either, as he scooted back sharply, Randolph following behind closely, the door slamming shut with some force.

Greg drew in a deep breath, holding it for some time before letting it out in one long stream of air. This was a complete mess, and it was his entire fault. He should have never suggested the hike. Dropping his head into his hands as he yawned, Greg waited, seeing that it was all he could do.

* * *

The lab had taken a massive change since the last week. Grissom knew that it was because both Sara and Greg were gone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was missing, other than his two CSI's. Compensating for them wasn't that hard, they hadn't worked fully on a case for near seven months now, swing still covered for them when the got busy.

Grissom hadn't even left his office that night to see how busy they were. He was still contemplating over the phone call he had received a few hours ago. A knock on the door caused him to look up, nodding to Catherine who was standing outside.

"Hey Casper," she smiled at him, "When you want to disappear, you really do disappear. I've been paging you all night."

"I know," Grissom said, ignoring the look she gave him as she sat down across from him.

"Any reason why you're in hiding?"

He glanced at her for a moment, then back down at his desk. "I got a call from Oregon today," he started.

When he didn't continue, she raised an eyebrow. "Okay, this means what exactly?"

"From the Officer convention, in the mountains."

"Ohh," she nodded, "the one Greg and Sara are at? Yeah, I forgot that's where they were. So they finally check in on us huh? How are they doing?"

His silence wasn't very reassuring, and she had to prompt him to continue. Letting out a sigh, Grissom looked back up at her for a moment. "Greg's being held in interrogation, on abuse charges over Sara."

Catherine said nothing, her mind trying to process all the words, and the simple fact that they were all in the same sentence. "You want to run that by me again?"

"Sara called at noon, rather pissed. She talked, actually she yelled, at me for about an hour. They were brought in for questioning, Sara thought it was over the DB they found up on the trails. But when they only wanted to talk with Greg, Sara got to asking around, and they told her that they were working on an abuse case."

"That doesn't make any sense," Catherine said, shaking her head. "I mean, I know they were snappy when they left, but Greg, hitting Sara? That seems a little, implausible. I've never seen Greg hit anything more than a fly in all the years I've known him."

Grissom nodded in agreement. "I was more worried about Sara hurting Greg," he admitted, "Not physically of course, though I wouldn't doubt she'd be able to tear his head off if he got her angry enough. But she has a pretty good knack of getting under his skin."

"So," Catherine said after Grissom made the statement, "What is going on then?"

"I don't know," Grissom admitted, "I talked to one of the lead detectives there, Larry Stiles, told him what I knew of Greg. He said it was standard procedure, which I'm sure it is, but I don't think that it's blowing over to well for the two."

"Don't worry," Catherine told him with a smile as she stood, "Everything will be fine. Besides that, if they even think of pressing charges, I'll give them a piece of my mind."

Grissom smiled, laughing quietly. "In that case, I'll leave it up to you to fix things if they get messy."

"You already do," she pointed out as left the room.

* * *

Greg rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, yawning as he did so. Stretching his legs out under the table, he laid his head back against the chair, sliding down far enough that he was comfortable. There was no clock in the room, no windows, and the door was solid wood. Three thin strips of lights hanging from the ceiling were the only source of light. There was no possible way to tell how long he had been in here. The only thing he knew for certain was that it had been a long time.

During this time, they had come back in, questioning him some more. Greg did his part, but quickly grew tired of the idle threats, and bias questions, and refused to answer when he felt they crossed the line.

He had only left the room once since he had arrived, after making a request to use the restroom. Jim had outright refused, which didn't surprise Greg, but Randolph escorted him there, and straight back afterwards. He also hadn't seen Sara since that morning, and was becoming worried, wondering if she was being put through the same treatment. It was unfair, they treated criminals better than this back at their own lab.

Randolph had been generous enough to bring by some food for him, but Greg hadn't felt like eating. Slowly the questions died down, and Greg found himself alone now. He had been like this for most of the time. At the moment, he was trying his hardest not to fall asleep. Although it sounded so welcoming.

He glanced up as the door opened, Sara coming into the room. He sat up quickly as she grabbed his coat and gloves he had taken off during his stay here. "Come on," she told him. "We're going."

"Were have you been?" Greg asked, pulling his coat on, following her out. They passed by Detective Neff, who watched them go with a wary eye.

"Here," Sara said shortly, "Yelling at Grissom, Stiles and about everyone else in this place."

"You called Grissom?" Greg asked, stepping outside with a grimace. It was dark, and they didn't have their flashlights. Sara didn't seem to care as she took the lead; Greg had to run to catch up to her.

"Yes, I called Grissom. He's going to find out sooner or later Greg, and I rather him hear our side first. I just can't believe you sometimes," she snapped.

Greg's steps faltered, "What did I do?" he asked, watching as she turned to him.

"Nothing," she answered.

"Then why are you mad at me?" Greg wondered.

"Because," she stated, "you did nothing."

"Sara," Greg told her softly, "sometimes I wish it was easier to understand you."

"They sat there an accused you of something you didn't do, they downgraded you, harassed you and you let them do it."

"It wasn't like I had a choice Sara," he reminded her, his brows furling.

"Right," she scoffed, "You never stand up for yourself, you let everyone push you around. 'Walk all over me, I don't care', where is your pride?"

"I'm not starting with you Sara," Greg told her sharply, "Let's just get back to the cabin, okay?"

"You see," Sara yelled at him as he started off. "You won't even stand up to me. How you ever got to where you are now is beyond me."

Greg stopped walking, turning back to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," Sara told him, lowering her voice. "The only way you got out into the field was because of Grissom's favor."

"That is not true," he said quietly, trying to not let her words bother him.

"Yes it is, and you know that it is. Any other supervisor would have flunked you, but because you were the top lab technician, he let you have it. You don't have the ability or the confidence to do this job."

Greg was taken aback, but he was unwilling to show her how much it had hurt him. "Just because your chance of being promoted were dashed, and I had an opportunity doesn't mean you have the right to take it out on me."

"You think that this is what it is all about? That's all you ever think, that when something is wrong, it's never your fault, never your doing. 'Oh blame Sara', Sara's fault, that's it. I can't believe you are being such a jerk about this."

Greg shook his head, more hurt than angry. "You know what, I'm going to go, I need to get out of here before I say something that I'm going to regret."

"Fine, get out of here," Sara yelled at him as he left, "and don't expect to come back," she added, crossing her arms.

"I won't then," he yelled back, disappearing into the night as Sara made her own way back to the cabin.

**TBC**


	12. Apologies

**Chapter Twelve: Apologies **

It had taken Sara roughly twenty minutes after coming back to the cabin to realize what she had done was wrong. But it took even longer for her to do something about it. After all, she had expected Greg to come back, despite what she had said.

When the late hours of night slowly waned in to the early hours of the morning, Greg still had not returned. Sara knew that she had to find him, knowing that if anything had happened to him, she would never be able to forgive herself.

Sara shivered in the frosty morning air, as she closed the cabin door behind her. The snow crunched under her heavy boots as she walked towards the main road, her flashlight sweeping the area around her.

She thought about calling for him, but decided against it; after all, people were still sleeping. She had a few ideas where Greg might be, not very many places were open at this time, and it was too cold to stay outside. She doubted Greg would put his health at risk. At least she hoped he wouldn't.

Sara smiled grimly as she pushed her way inside the small diner. It was her third stop now, and she was thankful that she had finally found Greg. Now she was unsure of what to do next. He was sitting near the back at a booth, working on eating a piece of chocolate cake. Greg was the only person she knew that would indulge in chocolate when he was stressed. And he was already on his third piece, two other dishes piled on top of each other sat on the end of the table; Sara shook her head, there was no way that could be healthy.

Letting out a sigh, Sara pulled off her stocking cap as she made her way over to him, watching him for a moment before sitting down on the other side. He didn't say anything to her, didn't even acknowledge that she was there in any way. Sara couldn't blame him, twisting the cap in her fingers she was at a loss for words.

They sat like this for some time, when Sara could no longer stand it; she picked up her own fork, reaching across the table and stole a small piece of the cake for herself. It was a risk, Greg was already mad at her, but she was hungry and watching him eat wasn't helping. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to do, but was surprised when Greg only pushed the plate towards the middle of the table, so that she wouldn't have to reach as far.

Sara took a few more bites, watching Greg. The young man refused to meet her eyes, staring down at the table as he ate. Sara sighed as she finished another bite, breaking the silence for the first time. "Not bad," she told him quietly.

Greg only nodded, taking another bite himself. "House special," he mumbled.

It was quiet again; Sara glanced from Greg to her hands. "I'm sorry Greg," she told him softly, "I didn't mean any of it."

She was surprised when Greg nodded. "Yes, you did," he told her; she wasn't sure if it was anger that she heard behind his words.

"No, I didn't, I was angry, and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have, but I did. I'm really sorry."

"You're right, you know," Greg kept on talking, like he had never heard what she had said. "I don't stand up for myself." He let out a sigh, putting his fork down.

"Greg…"

He cut her off, "But you know what? It doesn't bother me. I learned a while back that it doesn't matter what you say, if someone has a set opinion about you, it's not going to change just because you tell them different."

Sara nodded, looking up at him. "True," she said softly.

"I know what happened, you know what happened, and those that actually care about us, will know too. That's good enough for me. It doesn't matter what I say, Neff is still going to think that I hit you. That won't change."

Sara nodded, just letting him ramble. Sometimes it was easier that way. The two found themselves talking quietly for some time, unaware that someone else was watching them until he had come up along side the pair. Greg grew quiet, not looking up at him as Sara bided him a short hello.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Randolph asked, looking from Greg to Sara. When she shook her head, he continued. "Mind if I join you?" he wondered.

With a sigh, Sara scooted over when it was apparent that Greg wasn't going to. The detective sat down, waving off the waiter that had come to by to check up on them. "I thought you two might want to know that all charges have been dropped," he told them quietly.

Greg looked up at him for the first time, surprised. "Why the sudden change?" he asked.

Randolph shrugged, "I guess I've worked this job long enough to know when to trust my gut."

Greg nodded solemnly, putting his fork down on the now empty plate. "So that's it?"

Randolph nodded, "We have no sufficient evidence. Sara doesn't fit the profile for an abuse case. That plus the little spat you two had outside, if Greg didn't hit you then, then he wouldn't hit you at all."

Sara grimaced, "You heard us?"

Randolph smiled a little, "Well, you two weren't exactly whispering," he commented. "I never really thought it possible. Jim, he doesn't mean any harm. The guy just takes cases like these very serious and bit on the personal side. You perceive things differently when they've happened to you. For many people, they look and say 'how can that possibly happen', for some, they see the same thing and say 'why didn't someone do something'."

Sara agreed quietly. She knew what he was trying to explain, she took abuse cases personally as well. "So that's his deal then?"

Randolph shrugged, "I guess you could say that, but keep it quiet. He doesn't like his past brought up. I've got to get going now. You two take care."

Greg nodded as the detective stood up. "We need to get to class," he told Sara softly. She disagreed.

"Forget class Greg, you're exhausted."

He looked up at her with a small sigh, "Sara, I was exhausted yesterday. Besides, we can't miss class. Each one costs about 150, if you want to explain 150 to Ecklie, than you go right ahead."

She let out a small sigh, "Fine, we'll go. But no arguing, when it's over, you're going right to bed."

Greg shook his head, smiling softly, "Yes mother," he glanced up at her, glad to find that she was smiling back. "Let's get going."

* * *

Class went quicker than either Greg or Sara expected. They had moved from taking notes, to working on a staged B&E, Candi had joined them. The pair had held back, letting Candi do most of the work. It was fairly easy, something Greg and Sara could have wrapped up in only a few hours, but Candi was much slower. Neither of them seemed to mind, helping the youth whenever he got stuck. The only downside was that they would be using the full two days to finish.

Arriving back at the cabin that night, Greg was in his bed shortly after taking off his coat and gloves. He hadn't even bothered changing into different clothes, only crawling under the covers after kicking his boots off. It hadn't taken long for him to fall asleep.

Greg woke up some time later that night. He blinked a few times, not quite sure what had woken him; he was surprised to find Sara next to him, sound asleep. She must have crawled in with him sometime after falling asleep.

Letting out a yawn, Greg rubbed her back gently before wrapping an arm around her waist, closing his eyes again. They were open a moment later, he was sure this time. Someone was in their cabin.

Greg shook Sara lightly, rolling his eyes at her incoherent mumbling. She was definitely not a morning person. Reaching over her, he fiddled with the lamp cord, confused as to why it wouldn't turn on. Whoever it was, was coming closer, was nearly over them when Greg grasped the flashlight next to the clock, taking a clumsy swing at the intruder as he switched it on.

"Easy!"

The startled voice caught Greg off guard, waking Sara at the same time. She sat up quickly, nearly bumping heads with Greg in the process. Greg shone the light on the prowler, his breaths coming in short huffs.

"What the hell?" Sara yelled, as Greg let out a sigh, sitting up. He could hear the man draw in a long breath as he sat down on the unoccupied bed.

"What is going on?" Greg asked, glancing around. He hadn't realized how dark it was until now. "Why aren't the lights working?"

"Power's been cut," Randolph explained briefly, catching his breath as well .He had been just as startled as they had.

"What do you mean cut? And what are you doing in here? Trying to give us heart attacks?" Sara asked, her voice tense and high.

Randolph held at a hand, motioning for her to stop, as well as blocking out the glare of the light. Greg lowered it some as he began explaining.

"Someone cut the main power source. We're trying to get it fixed; I was helping when someone radioed in a disturbance in this area. You're door was open, and when I called in, no one answered. I was just checking to make sure everyone was okay."

Greg shook his head, "Our door couldn't have been open. I locked it when we got back, I'm sure of it."

"Disturbance, what kind of disturbance?" Sara wondered, rubbing her forehead.

"I don't know," Randolph admitted, "Someone said they saw something unusual. They wouldn't explain any further."

Sara shivered tensely, leaning against Greg. "You mean someone was in here? While we were sleeping?"

"I don't know, did you two have anything valuable that anyone would want?"

"Wallets maybe," Greg suggested, already retrieving his from the nightstand. He glanced over it quickly using the flashlight. "Everything's here," he commented.

"Same here," Sara responded, pulling her own from her coat pocket at the end of the bed. "Let me check my purse, I left in the bathroom."

Greg shook his head, leaning against the wall as Sara slowly climbed out of the bed. His heart was still pounding, it had scared him more than he wanted to admit, and the fact that someone had been in their cabin hadn't lightened his mood at all. Yawning he glanced back up as Sara fumbled in the darkness for the door handle.

"When will power be back?" Greg asked the detective.

"No idea, hopefully soon. This place gets eerie without any light."

Greg's response was cut short as a scream filled the air, encouraging him to his feet quickly, followed by Randolph as the pair stumbled into the bathroom after Sara, coming to a stop as pair of beady eyes glared back at them from the darkness. Sara stepped back into Greg as the figure suddenly lunged at them.

**TBC**


	13. Discussions

**Quick thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. Long chapter here, hope you enjoy. A bit under the weather right now, I blame the 90+ hours of work in the last two weeks! But things are slowing down now, so updates should be more frequent, when I start feeling better that is. **

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Discussions **

Sara stumbled back into Greg, nearly knocking him over. Greg steadied himself with his hand, leaning against the wall as he held on to Sara. Randolph jumped to the side as the figure scurried between his legs, following it with the beam of his own flashlight. They were barely able to see the striped tail as it slipped through the partially open door.

"Raccoon," Randolph breathed easily, turning back to the pair. "Just a raccoon. You okay?"

Sara nodded, letting go her own breath as well. "Yeah," she finally managed, once finding her voice again. Greg rubbed her shoulders as he too calmed down.

"How did it get in?" he wondered, "The bathroom door was closed."

Randolph had taken a few steps inside, glancing around. "Window's open," he commented.

"I opened it last night," Sara confessed, "I completely forgot about it."

"Make a mental note, they're smart critters, and curious, but frightful," Randolph told them, coming back out.

"Well," Greg responded, "That still doesn't explain the door being open, I know I locked it."

"Maybe," Randolph told him with a shrug, "routine can throw you off, doing something every night, if you forget, and then try and remember if you did, it can get confusing."

Greg nodded dully, but it was easy to tell he wasn't convinced. Randolph started to make his way around the room when another scream was heard, this time, from outside. Greg and Sara followed Randolph to the door, before the detective ordered them to stay inside.

Glancing outside, Greg could tell why. Just beyond the road that led to their cabin was form, lying face down in the snow. Randolph was already calling for help, even as he approached. Greg had pulled Sara back into the room, shutting the door quietly.

"You doing okay?" Greg asked, turning to her.

Sara nodded, but said nothing as the pair went to the window. They watched silently as Randolph talked with another person, some ways down from where the DB was. Next to him, Sara shook her head.

"Two bodies Greg?"

He nodded in agreement. "Something's up," he told her.

It was nearly an hour later that Randolph returned, knocking on their door easily. Greg and Sara had not fallen asleep since waking up, unable to get comfortable after their encounter. The detective nodded to the both of them.

"This is kind of pointless, but it's procedure, you didn't see anything unusual did you?"

Greg shook his head, "Nothing, well, other than our woodland friend," he added. "And what you told us."

Randolph nodded, "Death looks accidental, but they won't be sure until autopsy is completed. Broken neck, area gets slick," he commented quietly. He watched Greg nod before continuing. "You two should get some rest, everything is secure, and power should be back on soon. Stiles said some critter got a hold of the wires. Happened a few years back apparently. Been telling the board we need new covers for a while now."

Greg nodded again, but didn't say anything; he only closed the door as he left, sitting down next to Sara with a sigh. He grinned softly, seeing that she had fallen asleep on the couch there. Fetching a blanket from the bed, he covered her before checking to make sure the door was locked before crawling back in his own bed, not certain if he would be able to sleep, but willing to try.

* * *

He was in a better mood, later that morning, he had been able to catch a few more hours of sleep, and though still tired, he felt much more refreshed. The power was back by the time he woke up, something he was quite thankful for; he needed a shower.

The hot water felt wonderful, as Greg relaxed under the warm spray. He would be glad once he was back home, no more surprises, no more restless nights. These were the thoughts on his mind as he dressed, pulling on his last clean shirt. He cleaned the stitching around his knuckles, being careful not to move the casting to much. It had become a regular process now, cleaning them daily, and taking two pills with lunch normally saw him through the day with little pain. The doctor would want to see him in again here soon. Once finished, Greg wrapped the stitches back up, wondering when he wouldn't have to do so any more. Drying his hair, he left the bathroom, turning towards his dresser.

"We need to get laundry done today," he told Sara, digging through several of the doors, frowning slightly.

"You haven't seen my sweater, have you?" Greg wondered, looking through another drawer. "I thought I left it out."

Sara looked up from the couch where she was reading, "You mean the green fluffy one that's too big for you?"

"Hey," Greg commented, "I like my sweaters big. Anyways, that's the one."

Sara shook her head, going back to reading. "Nope, haven't seen it."

Greg let out a sigh as he closed the drawer, straightening up. Turning around, he frowned, watching Sara.

"So, you haven't seen it at all?" he asked.

"Not at all," she replied, turning the page.

Greg walked over to the couch, stopping in front of her, holding out his hand. "Okay, hand it over."

Sara looked up at him, smiling sheepishly. "Uhh…no," she told him quietly.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "No?" he repeated, watching her.

"It's comfortable," she responded, her voice even quieter.

"That's the last sweater I have Sara, now give it up," he told her, but when she didn't make any move he prompted her more. "I'll give you to the count of three to hand it over, or else you will have to face the consequences." He was trying to be serious, but couldn't help the smile that crept over his face.

Sara grinned up at him as he started counting. When he had reached two, she jumped off the couch past him, running towards the bathroom. Greg lunged after her, reaching out, but came up with only empty air. "Sara, come back here!" he called after her.

She laughed, "Catch me first, then you can have your sweater." She came to a stop as Greg cut her off. She turned around and jumped over the bed that was blocking her way, heading into the kitchen.

Greg was able to cut her off again, matching her move for move around the small island counter. This went on for some time before he tried reaching across to grab a hold of her, but to no avail as she slipped past him again. She had only taken a few steps past him when he finally managed a hold on her. Still running, Sara stumbled, pulling Greg down with her to the floor. He landed over her awkwardly, slightly afraid he had hurt her, but he was glad to find that she was laughing, staring up at him. He propped himself up a little with one elbow. He was still laying over her, pinning her to the floor.

"Caught you," he told her softly, breathing heavily.

"Only because I let you," she answered, her breaths coming in heavy pants as well. They stayed like this for a moment, before Greg leaned down, kissing her gently. Sara smiled when he pulled back, rubbing his face gently.

For a moment, neither spoke, they just watched each other, before Sara looked away, blushing slightly. "We better hurry if we're going to do it," she told him.

Greg blushed, raising an eyebrow. "Sara…I don't know about you, but don't you think it's a little soon?" he asked her.

"Well," she told him, looking back up at him. "It's just not going to happen all by itself."

"We could go a little faster I suppose, but shouldn't we know about each other a little more before doing anything?" Greg wondered.

Sara blinked, watching him. "Like what?"

"Well," Greg shrugged, "For starters, I don't know really know you outside of work, I mean, I don't even know your family."

Sara laughed slightly. "You want to meet my parents before we do laundry together?"

Greg blinked, "Laundry?"

She laughed again, pushing him off as she sat up some. "Yes, laundry. You said it yourself, it needs to be done. Why do you think I'm wearing you're sweater?"

Greg nodded, standing quickly. "Laundry, of course," he held his hand out to her, helping her up.

She grinned at him, giggling some. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"Nothing," Greg answered, going over to the dresser again. "Nothing at all."

"Uh huh," she laughed, "I've already told you that you're a terrible liar."

Greg blushed, pulling his shoes on. "I'm going to do some laundry," Greg told her, "and give me my sweater back; I won it fair and square."

"Not until you tell me what you were thinking," Sara grinned.

Greg frowned at her, "You really are evil," he told her, "Nick warned me about that. I should have listened. You can keep the sweater in that case."

Sara laughed, pulling on her own boots, "Thanks, it looks better on me anyways."

Greg only shook his head as they continued to get ready. It took about an hour to gather everything up, and carry it down to the laundry mat, both of them taking care of their own clothes. After getting the loads going, the pair went to the small coffee shop. They didn't need to tell the owner what kinds they wanted; she had learned quickly that they always got the same thing.

Greg took a sip of his own drink, closing his eyes as the familiar aroma hit him. He would have to find more of this when they went back. If Las Vegas even carried any that was.

"So," Sara asked him quietly, as the two walked around the perimeter of the lake. It was still frozen, and it attracted many skaters daily. Greg watched some of the younger kids skate before he shrugged.

"So what?"

"What do think, about what's going on?" Sara prompted.

Coming to a bench, Greg cleared off the snow, taking a seat. Sara did the same, sitting next to him. "I don't know what to think." He answered honestly.

"Well, tell me what you think. If you were evaluating this, what would you say?"

Greg laughed, "What, are you training me now?"

"Well, I am in charge," Sara pointed out, smiling. "Seriously now. Take what you know, apply everything; what do you conclude?"

Greg let out a sigh, thinking for a moment. "Two bodies, both male, early twenties. Both died within days of each other, in the same area. Both are listed as accidental, but not confirmed as accidental yet." He shrugged, "Without the evidence, it's hard to tell. It's possible, but unlikely."

Sara agreed. "They both had broken necks too," she pointed out.

Greg nodded, "Yeah, something's not right though, I can feel it."

She grinned, "What, are you a clairvoyant now?"

"With me, you never know. Like I said before, there still is a lot we need to learn about each other."

Sara laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. "Okay, when I was in third grade, I skipped a spelling test because I didn't study at all for it. I told the teacher I had gotten lost on the way to the bathroom."

Greg chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Third grade, isn't that a little young to be skipping tests? Did they even believe you?"

She laughed along with him, "Yes, actually, because it was true."

Greg shook his head, prompting her to explain. "I asked if I could use the bathroom before the test. I was going to go there, wait a few minutes then come back and tell the teacher that I had gotten sick. But I was new in the school and ended up lost. Another teacher found me wandering the halls. I was tempted to tell him that I got sick, but all I could say was that I was lost. By the time he got me back to class, the test was over."

"What you get for trying to get out of a test," Greg said with an easy shrug.

"You mean to tell me that you've never skipped a test before?"

Greg held up a finger, "Once. I was in college, called my chemistry teacher and told him that I couldn't make it in. He said that it was fine because the final was pushed back to the following week, and that we had started on DNA analysis a week early. Completely excited, I showed up twenty minutes into testing."

Sara laughed, putting her cup down as she glanced at him. "You fell for that old trick?" she asked, laughing still.

Greg shrugged, "What can I say; I'm a sucker for DNA. He knew that too." He took another long sip of his coffee, finishing it off. "Now what?"

Sara thought for a moment, "Favorite food?"

"Anything drowned in chocolate?" Greg suggested, grinning as she shook her head. "Honestly, anything edible goes. I don't have too many favorites. I try all different things."

"Fruit, grapes especially. Hard to find sometimes; expensive." Sara told him. "Favorite color?"

Greg glanced down at his wardrobe, scanning the various colors before glancing back up at her with a shrug. She nodded, "Impossible question, I know," she smiled.

"I just don't really favor anything I guess."

"Okay, dislikes then. Name something that really irritates you."

Greg was quiet as he thought again, before grinning. Turning towards her, he swung his legs up onto the bench.

"Okay, you know Star Wars right?"

Sara frowned as she shrugged, "Enough I guess, but if you find it annoying, then don't pay any attention to it."

Greg laughed, shaking his head. "Just listen. One of the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, raised a student, Anakin Skywalker, who in turn decimated the entire Jedi Order, most of it anyhow. In order to save the Jedi, Obi-Wan hid his student's children, one of them, Luke Skywalker, he hid with a man called Owen Lars. Now, some sources say that Owen Lars was Obi-Wan Kenobi's brother. But if they were brothers, than that means that Anakin would have been his brother, because Owen Lars was the son of the second man who married Shimi Skywalker, Anakin's mother. But Anakin and Obi-Wan had no relationship to each other. Besides that, there are three different names, Kenobi, Skywalker, and Lars. It's just not possible."

Sara just sat there, watching him. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. "You need to learn to let these things go." She told him quietly.

Greg shrugged. "You asked," he responded. "So then, what bothers you?"

Sara let out a sigh. "People," she muttered.

"People in general? Or people like me?" Greg prompted.

She laughed, "People in general, although you're not too far off. I guess it's not so much as people as it is what they do. Some people think they can do anything; they don't think how it affects others. I've seen so many cases where someone ends up dead over such a small matter. It's awful."

Greg nodded, the mood a sudden change. "It's not right," Greg spoke quietly. Sara was quiet as she stood up, watching him for a moment.

"Come on, our clothes should be done," she told him, shaking off the clouded feeling.

Greg agreed, following after her, the two walking side by side once the path widened again.

"So," Sara asked softly, "Who exactly is whose brother again?"

**TBC**


	14. Fiery Burst

**Chapter 14: Fiery Burst **

It was late, or early, however you wanted to look at it. The night air was cold, icy even. A frost had settled over the porch, slicking the wooden boards. Sara walked carefully, not wanting to fall as she made her way down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support.

The sky was clear, the stars shone brightly. She drew in a deep breath as she glanced up at them, the warm air she exhaled turning into moisture as it drifted upward. You could never see stars like this back in Vegas.

The moon was bright, a halo surrounding it, giving it a hazy appearance. She smiled, stepping off the porch into the ankle deep snow. Unable to sleep, she had wandered outside, thinking that a short walk would help calm her nerves.

She had spent the last few nights sleeping next to Greg, it had helped calm her nerves some, allowing her to sleep easier. But tonight, not even that was helping her to stay calm. She was restless, but unable to explain why.

This had been happening on and off now for the last several months. Some nights were good; she slept soundly, without any dreams, or nightmares. But most, were plagued with unnerving thoughts, while others she couldn't even close her eyes. She hadn't talked to anyone about them, not even their therapist Grissom had set them up with.

Sara came to a stop, her eyes drifting around wearily. She knew that talking was the best way to heal old wounds, but whenever she tried, she couldn't find the words. Shaking her head, she turned around, making her way back towards the cabin. When the timing was right, she would be able to talk about it, she was sure of it.

Walking back, she came to a stop, glancing over her shoulder with a frown. She thought she had heard something, but then again the wind had picked up. With a shrug she continued walking. She was nearly there when someone grabbed her from behind.

Sara's first intention was to scream, but a hand around her mouth muffled any attempt to do so. Whoever had her was at least a head taller, one hand wrapped around her mouth, holding her head back, the other wrapped around her chest.

Struggling, Sara kicked out behind her, trying to knock her attacker off balance. She was able to get a few successful kicks in, but that was all. A knife pressed against her throat stopped all her struggles, and she was left trying to catch her breath.

Her attacker laughed, and for the first time she heard her voice as he taunted her. "Sara, Sara, Sara," his breath was warm against her face. She closed her eyes as the blade of the knife was drawn closer against her neck, as silent tears ran down her face.

"Sara…Sara…Sara?"

Her eyes shot open, confusion filling her as she tried to remember where she was. Panic overrode her when she found that she couldn't move, someone had a hold of her hands, effectively pinning them down. She struggled a bit more, muttering something that even she couldn't understand.

"Sara? Come on girl, wake up."

Sara let out breath, her struggles ceasing as she blinked a few times in the dim light. She found herself face to face with Greg; he still a hold of her wrists, and was watching her intently.

"You with me?" he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

She nodded, "Um, yeah…" her voice trailing off.

Greg let go of her wrists, rubbing her arm, still watching her. "You okay?"

She nodded again, rolling away from him, facing the other wall now. She was still shaken, and slightly embarrassed, the dream had seemed so real. It had scared her; she was still scared, but mostly embarrassed. She felt Greg move up behind her, pulling her hair from her face as he kissed her gently, wrapping an arm around her.

Letting out a sigh, she rolled back towards him, watching him. "It was about that night again," she said softly, blushing as she looked away. "Well, kind of, it was the same guy, I think, he's still after me…" she grew quiet, staring up at the ceiling.

"Sara, I don't think they are."

"They searched for weeks Greg, no bodies were found," Sara pointed out.

"That doesn't mean anything, a hundred miles of desert Sara, where could they have gone?"

"I don't know Greg, I just have this feeling. They're going to finish what they started, I can't help it."

"You have to let it go," Greg told her, embracing her gently.

She pushed him away, sitting up. "They are out there, they got away. You know as well as I do how criminals are, they don't leave witnesses alive."

"Sara, they couldn't have lived. They had no food, no water, no protection. Even if they did make it into another town, someone would have recognized them, they were on the cop's top wanted list, on every news station. They're still out in the desert somewhere, and that's where they'll stay."

Sara shook her head, "That's not true, and you know it," biting her lip she folded her arms across her knees, trying not to cry as Greg sat up next to her.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Greg rested his head on her shoulder. "It's over Sara," he told her quietly, "I don't know what else to tell you. Let's just, forget it okay? Let's not fight, not tonight?"

She nodded reluctantly, giving in to his embrace as he rubbed her back, slowly bringing her down next to him. Curling up against him, she closed her eyes as Greg pulled the blankets back over them.

"I didn't mean to…wake you," Sara told him. She could feel him laugh against her.

"Just go back to sleep," he said through a yawn. "I'll be mad at you later; I'm too tired right now."

She smiled as she listened to his faint breathing as he fell asleep, before falling asleep herself.

* * *

"Two different breaks," Candi announced, examining the door. It was the second day of the B&E case, and it seemed to Greg as if they were going backwards. He looked down from where he sat at the top of stairs, watching the trainee examine the door. It should have been one of the first things he did.

"What does that mean?" Greg asked, yawning. Even though he had slept most of last night, Greg still felt himself feeling tired. Even more so now than he was this morning.

"Means that both locks were locked?" Candi suggested, glancing up at him to see if he was right.

Greg nodded, encouraging him to continue. Letting out a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, blinking wearily a few times. He wondered dully if he was coming down with something, or if the lack of sleep was getting him down. He was beginning to feel worse as the day continued on.

Greg reminded himself mentally that they only had 15 days left, before they would be able to return back home. Greg was looking more and more forward to it with each passing day.

He glanced up as Sara came behind him, taking a seat next to him. She gave him a small smile, "Room's been checked, all done."

Greg nodded, turning back to keep an eye on Candi. "Good," he told her quietly. "Maybe we can get out of here a little early today. Get back to the cabin, catch some extra sleep."

Sara watched him for a moment, "You still tired?"

Greg nodded, "A little yeah," he pressed a hand against his eyes again. "Might be catching something, eyes hurt too," he complained.

"Well, stop rubbing them," Sara laughed softly, pulling his hand away. "You're just going to make them worse. They look red," she added. "You probably got something on your gloves, transferred right to your eyes."

Greg nodded, "Wouldn't surprise me," he grinned.

Sara laughed, shaking her head. She became serious for a moment, "You smell that?"

Greg sat there, quiet for a moment before frowning. "I don't smell anything."

"Odd," Sara commented. "I don't smell it anymore, but I recognized it."

"What?"

Sara shrugged, "I don't know. Probably nothing."

Greg nodded, leaning back against the stairs, reaching up with his hand again. Sara stopped him, holding onto his wrist. "Stop rubbing them."

"They hurt," he protested, frowning.

She laughed, grabbing his face, "You are such a baby," she told him.

"I am not," Greg argued, holding on to her arm.

"I don't see anything in them, they're just irritated, maybe they're dry," she suggested. "My eyes are dry too; we'll stop at the store and see if they have any eye drops on our way back."

"Sounds good," he admitted, grinning at her again.

She shook her head, turning away from him. "Don't even think about it."

Greg stopped in the middle of rubbing his eyes again, frowning. "What, you have eyes in the back of your head now?"

"I've always had eyes in the back of my head," she joked, "I thought you knew that."

"I do now," Greg told her, "I'll just have to remember it."

"That's going to drive me nuts now," she cursed slightly, turning back towards him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll stop rubbing them."

"Not you," she laughed softly, "You already drive me nuts, it's that smell, I know I've smelt it before, but I can't remember what it is."

Greg shrugged, "You'll probably remember it in the middle of the night, and you'll wake me up just to let me know," he teased her.

"Yup, have to keep you on your toes somehow."

He laughed, turning his attention back down to Candi. He was scribbling notes in his notebook. "Power may have been cut," he called up to them. "I'll take a quick check around to see what still works."

"How's he doing?" Sara asked, watching him along with Greg.

Greg shrugged, "Not bad, a little slow, but then again so was I when I first started."

Sara nodded, "Who wasn't?"

"Grissom?" Greg suggested, "He always seems on top of his game."

"More in likely, who knows?" Sara agreed, "Ammonia…"

Greg turned to her, "Ammonia?"

She nodded, "That smell, it's ammonia."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked, his eyebrows furling as he sat up.

She nodded again, "Positive."

Greg shook his head, watching Candi as he went about his work as he thought things over. "Wait a minute," he turned back to Sara, "Isn't ammonia highly combustible?"

Sara nodded slowly, catching on quickly as the two turned back to the CSI trainee as he made his way into the kitchen. "Candi wait," Greg called out, watching as the young man reached for the stove top dial.

The warning came too late, however, as the stove top turned on with a click, small flames shooting out of the base and quickly incinerating the room.

**TBC**


	15. Double AA

**First things first, thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! You guys are great, as always. Since you all tend to read all my stories, I can post this once…hopefully :P**

**Short rambling here, in order to clear up some gender-confusion.**** I purposely don't put my gender in my bio because I find it interesting to listen to ppl try and guess my gender. Not that I particularly enjoy being confused with the wrong gender, I find that it provides wonderful entertainment sometimes. Yeah, I'm weird, but I do believe we've established that already :P**

**Okay, so…I am an 18 yr old female, single, in case anyone is wondering. I graduated almost a year ago from HS, and now work full time as a lab tech, and as many of you may be able to guess, I tend to work over time as well. I spend most, and sometimes all of my free time writing, and yes, I do write fast, as you can assume by my recent and frequent updates. Drives my mom crazy, she says I need to get a life, but I'm enjoying it quite well. Hmm…I think that pretty much covers my current life for now, email me if you're at all interested because I don't want to put you to sleep, honestly I doubt you want to hear it.**

**Okay, short rambling over. Onto the story now. We're almost done, roughly five chapters ****left, give or take a few.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Double AA**

"Deep Breaths."

Greg nodded, holding the oxygen mask in place as he drew another deep breath as instructed. The medic had a hold of his other hand, fingers pressed against his wrist, scribbling notes down on the chart that was balanced on his knees.

In front of him, Sara paced back and forth slowly. She had been doing so ever since the paramedics arrived, chasing her away to get a better look at him, even though Greg insisted he was fine.

His gaze focused beyond Sara to the cabin that was still smoldering. It had taken fire crews nearly half an hour to get here due to road conditions. By then the cabin was fully ablaze. Greg shook his head, wiping his eyes again as the burning sensation continued to irritate them.

"It doesn't make sense," Sara said, coming to a stop, looking at him. "Why would ammonia be up here in the first place? More importantly, how did it get up here?"

Greg pulled the mask away from his face, "Well, ammonia can be transported in liquid or gaseous form. It's easier to transport as a liquid, in gas form it's more likely to combust, or leak. It has to be held under high pressure during transportation. My guess is whoever got it up here knows a thing or two about chemicals," he suggested.

The medic leaned over, tapping on the mask. Greg brought it back up, nodding at him before turning back to Sara.

"Well that doesn't really help. Everyone here has some knowledge in Chemistry. That's not a surprise. Would ammonia be used for anything up here? I mean, we're assuming this was intentional, is it possible that it was just a slip up?"

Greg shook his head, pulling the mask away again. "I don't know. I suppose it's possible, but I don't know. Too many strange things have been happening around here."

He turned back to find the medic watching him again, and eyebrow slightly raised. Giving him a small awkward smile, Greg put the oxygen mask back on. "Thank you," the medic stated firmly, turning his attention back to his chart.

Sara glanced over her shoulder as both Randolph and Stiles came up the hill their way. She gave them a short nod as a greeting. "How's Candi?" she asked. Both she and Greg had been able to pull Candi out after the main explosion, the flames spread quickly, but more in an upward direction than outward. After the initial blast, finding the trainee had been relatively easy.

"He took a pretty good hit," Randolph said softly, "second and third degree burns to the face and neck, his thick clothing helped protect the rest of his body for the most part. They're flying him out to East Moreland Hospital in Portland. They'll keep him there overnight, and probably fly him home to a more local hospital tomorrow. What about you two?"

Sara shrugged lightly, "I'm fine," her gaze turned back to where Greg sat in the snow.

"Mr. Sanders has inhaled only trace amounts, enough to cause irritation, but nothing serious," the medic explained. "Still, keep an eye on him for at least the next twenty four hours, anything comes up, don't hesitate to bring him in. If it has caused any internal problems, we'll know within that time."

Stiles nodded, "You two are lucky you didn't get burned," the detective told them. "The fire spread pretty quickly."

Sara agreed, sitting down next to Greg as the medic started to pack up. "You okay?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, although it doesn't matter how many times I say that, someone is still going to demand that a doctor checks me over anyways."

She laughed, shaking her head. "It's because you're stubborn, and you enjoy lying."

"I do not enjoy lying," Greg shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Oh man."

They glanced up at the approaching form, still laughing. It died down as the man reached them.

"You two can't catch a break huh?"

"Hi Tom," Greg gave him a nod. "I guess not, run of bad luck."

The older CSI gave him a smile, "Yeah? Don't rub it off on me."

Stiles cut in, shaking his head. "Why are you here? This hasn't been announced as a crime scene yet. As far as we're concerned it's accidental."

"I'm not here about the explosion initially, I'm here about the DB that was found."

"DB?" Sara asked, looking up at him. "In the house? That can't be, there were only three of us in there at the time, and we're all accounted for."

Tom let out a sigh, "The DB was found below the floor boards. Firefighters found it, called it in. This is very interesting though," he indicated, pointing back to the cabin. "Both your previous vics, we were able to make a connection among them. Both of them died from asphyxiation due to inhalation of high levels of ammonia gas. Their necks were broke postmortem, and our third vic here has a broken neck as well. It won't take long to examine, but I can probably guarantee that his death is quite similar."

"Asphyxiation from ammonia gas?" Greg asked, "I knew it could make you sick, kill you toxically, but through suffocation?"

He watched Tom nod, flipping through several papers. "At low levels, ammonia can cause irritation to the eyes, nose and throat. As levels increase, it can cause swelling of the tracheal tract and obstruction of upper throat as well as serious damage to the eyes."

Stiles shook his head, "Are you telling me that someone is using ammonia to kill people?"

Tom gave him a grim smile, "I'm just here to collect statements."

* * *

Sara shook her head as they walked through the door, taking off her coat and hanging it on the rack. "Can you believe this?" she asked, pulling off her gloves and hat as well. She kicked off her boots, watching as Greg sat down on the couch, not bothering to take anything off.

"I can understand by how they died that it's being seen as accidental right now, but how do you explain the broken necks and different locations? All three had to be moved, you can only suffocate from ammonia in poorly ventilated areas. Obviously a mountain top has plenty of ventilation, so they died somewhere else, and someone stashed their bodies."

Sara nodded, sitting next to Greg. "What do the victims have in common? Besides the fact they all died the same way."

She watched him shrug. "I don't know, we don't have the clues, we're working blind." He let out a groan, leaning back and rubbing his head with one hand. "My head hurts," he complained.

"I'll call for some help," Sara said quickly, standing.

Greg looked up as she moved over to the kitchen, shaking his head. "What? No, no I'm fine, I just need some of my meds," he reassured her.

"They said to call if anything happened," she warned him, but at least she had stopped.

"It's okay," Greg told her, moving to take off his coat. "I just have a headache, I'll go sleep it off. I'm tired anyways, probably for the best."

Sara nodded, "Okay, if you're sure," she commented dryly, watching him.

"I'm sure," he answered, shaking his head as he laughed. He gave her a small smile, still seeing that it wasn't convincing her. "Don't worry," he told her quietly, walking over to where she stood.

"When that fire…" she looked up at him as he came to a stop in front of her. "I thought…I mean," she fell silent again, pushing her hair back from her face. Greg took a hold of her hands before pulling her into a hug.

"You're okay," he told her, resting his head against hers. He could hear her laugh.

"It's not me I was worried about," she pulled away for a moment. "I was so afraid that you were hurt, I couldn't see you right after it happened."

Greg hugged her gently once again. "I'm okay. Tired, cranky, but okay." He let out a fake snore, provoking her into a laugh.

"Alright already," she laughed, pushing him away slightly. "Go get some sleep so I don't have to listen to you complain anymore."

* * *

Unable to sleep that night, Sara found herself on the couch, curled up under a blanket, watching Greg from a distance. He had slept soundly for the first time in days; it made her feel guilty somewhat. Letting out a sigh she turned her attention back to the small radio she held in her lap.

World news had been on for roughly ten minutes, it was good to be able to catch up on what was happening again. She wondered dimly how the lab was doing, she didn't want to admit it, but she missed everyone. It would be nice to be back, she was looking forward to it. Did they miss her and Greg she wondered. She wouldn't be surprised if they didn't, after all it was probably a lot quieter without them.

Sara laughed quietly at that thought, sinking back into the pillow she had stolen from the bed. Her attention turned back to the radio, listening as the announcer droned on.

"A young woman is dead after a hit and run today, officers are on the look out for a black Ford, and a male in his thirties, believed to be an ex of the victim. New reports today show that the Double AA killer may be back at it again after another body was found in the mountains."

Sara frowned, turning the volume up some more as the report continued. "Authorities will neither confirm nor deny this factor. So far a total of four bodies have been recovered, all of which that showing the same death pattern the Double AA killer used nearly twenty years ago."

"You mean they have a name for this guy?"

Sara glanced up, frowning as she turned the radio down. "You're supposed to be sleeping," she told him.

Greg laughed, "Not tired anymore," he answered quietly. "Why didn't Tom say anything about the Double AA Killer?"

"Just because we're certified field agents too doesn't mean we're best buds. Tom's following regulations, you're not supposed to talk about cases to random people."

"I'm not random," Greg argued, sitting up. "I'm just me."

Sara shook her head, "You know what I mean. Maybe the library will have some information."

Greg nodded, "It'll be open in not too much longer," he told her. "We could get something to eat and head right over there."

Sara agreed, giving him a smile. "Let's go."

**TBC**


	16. Learning

**Chapter Sixteen: Learning**

Sara frowned timidly as she walked along the bookshelf, her fingers grazing over the binders of several books. Grasping the top of one, she pulled it free of the shelf, making sure the other books didn't fall at the same time. She raised an eyebrow, wiping away the dust that had collected on the cover. It was obvious this place wasn't used a whole lot.

Flipping the book open, Sara glimpsed through the pages as she slowly walked back to the table, sitting down in the plush chair. "You finding anything?" she asked, laying the book down on the table. She glanced up when no response came, frowning.

"Greg?" she called his name twice before he looked up, confusion plastering his face.

"Huh?"

Sara laughed softly, shaking her head as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. "What are you reading?"

Greg grinned, flipping back to the front cover. "100 Fathoms Under, by John Blaine," he read off the title, glancing back up to her. She was watching him with an amused expression on her face. Greg shrugged, "What?"

"Have you figured anything out?" she wondered.

"Of course," Greg said quickly, blushing after a moment. "Okay, maybe not."

She nodded, still amused. "I figured as much." Leaning forward she turned her attention back to her own book, flipping through several more pages. "Greatest crime mysteries," she read off, her finger following the words. Ranting off several names she smiled as she finally came to what she was looking for.

"The Double AA killer; his name derived from his method of killing, using a special form of ammonia to suffocate his victims to death. He would then break the victim's neck; for some time this was disregarded as accidental until technology advanced, and determining that the result of death was from asphyxiation, not from breakage of the neck. The Double AA killer was arrested and tried in the year of 1981; the man held accused, 54 year old Robert Newburn, was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Robert Newburn claimed innocence and escaped three years later. Police were never able to locate him again."

Sara glanced up, frowning as she watched him. "Greg?"

He glanced up quickly, "What?"

"Did you hear any of that?"

Greg shrugged, grinning sheepishly as he closed his book. "Okay, I'll be good, I promise."

"Uh huh," she stated slowly, shaking her head as she read the passage again. Greg was chewing on his lip when she glanced back up, trading looks of contemplation with him.

"So we have an 80 year old killer on our hands?" Greg asked, shrugging, scratching the cloth around his fingers. The bandages had become irritating lately.

"Anything's possible," Sara told him, flipping to the front of the book. "This was published in '90, he could have been found within the last 15 years. I wish they gave a little more description on how he suffocated them though. I mean, no one is just going to sit there and suffocate to death."

"It's possible, but unlikely," Greg considered. "What if…" he grew quiet for a moment thinking. Sara urged him on. "You remember that Danielson case, a few years back? Catherine worked the lead."

"The one that happened in the Luxor?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, the girl that was suffocated in the pool room."

"One of the hotel staff suffocated her with a towel that was drenched in chloroform. We thought that the chloroform is what originally killed her, but it was the towel. Why?"

"Well, maybe this is the same way. We are assuming that whoever is killing is using ammonia gas, but what if it's liquid?" Greg suggested.

"It can't be," Sara intervened, "they would have died from drowning, not asphyxiation."

Greg held up a hand, "Let me finish," he pleaded, "A liquid would be easier to handle, and hide. Just poor some on a towel, cover the victim's mouth and nose…"

"Until they inhale enough to cause a reaction. The killer wouldn't have to hold the cloth tightly either, give them enough space to breath, but inhaling the fumes would do his work for him."

"We figured that it was a gas because of the cabin incident, but what if that was where he was storing the bottles, and one of the broke open? What if it was all just an accident?"

"Having a body hidden in there though?" Sara wondered, rubbing her head.

Greg shrugged, "Maybe he was planning to move it out later. I don't know, I'm just guessing right now," Greg told her grabbing the book away from her, flipping through it. "It doesn't say anything else in here."

Sara let out a sigh, nodding, "I know, I just wish I knew more." She shook her head, "Stop scratching."

Greg laughed, glancing up at her, "I can't help it, these bandages are driving me crazy. You have any idea what it's like to not be able to move your fingers?"

Sara laughed, watching him. "You drive me crazy, that's got to cut it close."

"I'm not that bad," Greg defended himself, sitting up.

"When you're in a good mood no," Sara stated, closing the book. "Come on, I need a coffee."

"You need more than that," Greg muttered, picking up his own stack.

"I heard that," Sara called over her shoulder as she slid the book back into place. Greg laughed as he followed her suit, the two leaving shortly after. On the way out, Sara stopped to get a cup of coffee, letting Greg know that she would catch up with him shortly.

The owner gave her a smile as she filled the order. "How are you doing?" she asked.

Sara nodded, returning her smile. "I'm doing great, how about you?"

The owner turned back to her, a sympathetic look on her face. "You sure? From what I hear you've had it rough."

Sara let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Things could be better, but hey, I'm alive, right?"

The young lady nodded, she couldn't have been any older than Sara was. Grabbing the cup she handed it off to her after a moment. "It's not that," she nodded off to where Greg was talking with a couple other guys a few feet away. "I heard that he's roughed you up a few different times."

Sara furrowed her brows, frowning. "Where did you hear this?" she asked.

"Is it true?"

Sara shook her head, "No, rumors are rumors. That's all. Who said that he's been hitting me?"

"I just heard the talk, but one guy said that a Detective Neff saw him hitting you."

Sara nodded, her lips pressing together tightly. "I should have guessed," she gave the owner a smile as she picked up her cup. "I thank you for your concern," she told her quietly, "But it is misplaced."

The owner nodded, returning her smile. "I thought as much. Have a nice day."

Sara caught up with Greg who gave her an awkward look. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Sara shook her head, "Nothing, just talk." She wasn't about to tell him Neff was passing along more rumors. It had made her angry enough; she didn't need him fueling her as well. "Let's just go back to the cabin and veg," Sara told him, earning a laugh.

"I told you that you were going to be tired," Greg chided her.

"Can't let you have all the fun," Sara responded, giving him a bright smile. Greg only rolled his eyes as they made their way back.

* * *

Stretching, Greg opened his eyes, blinking a few times, trying to shake of the sleepy feeling. Something wasn't right, he realized, sitting up slowly, but he couldn't figure out what. Blinking several more times he swung his legs over the bed, fighting off a yawn as he rubbed his head.

It was quiet, that's what felt so odd, he finally realized. Checking the time on the clock he frowned seeing that it was almost nine in the morning, wondering dully how he could have slept so long. It was then Greg noticed he was alone. Glancing around the abandoned cabin he frowned, getting to his feet.

"Sara?" he called her name, walking towards the kitchen, checking the bathroom as he passed by. He shook his head, snatching a note off the counter. "Went out, be back later," he read. "Went out where," he wondered, trying to remember if she was mad at him for some reason.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" Greg asked, reading the note over again, "I would have come along." He laughed shortly, realizing that he was talking to himself.

"Well, you're never too young to go insane, right?" he asked, crumbling the note in his hand, taking a shot at the garbage can. "Swish," he called out as it went in. He rubbed his head gingerly, shaking it at the same time. "I need to go back to sleep," he laughed, making his way towards the bathroom instead.

By the time he had showered and gotten ready, it was past ten. He left the cabin, locking it before he headed down the steps. Checking the diner and library and finding nothing, Greg spent a better part of an hour walking along the small lake, becoming more and more worried. Sara, it had seemed, had just vanished. A few people he talked to remembered seeing her, but no one could give him a clear answer on where exactly.

Greg let out an exasperated sigh, coming to rest against a tree. Where else could she have gone? He was fairly certain that she wasn't mad at him, but then again who knew? Why else would she just go off like that? He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"You okay kid?"

Greg glanced up quickly, giving the man a slight shrug. "You haven't seen Sara have you?" he wondered.

Randolph shook his head, "Not since the other day, why? Is something wrong?"

"I hope not," Greg responded, "She left me a note this morning saying that she would be back later, but that's it. I can't find her anywhere."

Randolph gave him a smile, "She's a big girl, I'm sure she can take care of herself."

Greg nodded, laughing as well. "Yeah, I'm sure she can. Just worried…" Greg didn't finish his thought as a slight crashing noise drew both his and Randolph's attention towards the cabin above them.

"That's Jim's cabin," Randolph stated, shaking his head. "Sounds like he's awake."

Greg chuckled. "Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," he commented. His laughter died away as the pair heard a short scream, one that was muffled quickly. "Sara," Greg said quietly, already moving towards the cabin.

**TBC…**


	17. False Assumptions

**Chapter Seventeen: False Assumptions **

Greg was halfway up the hill when the door to the cabin flew open, slamming shut only a few seconds later. Coming to a stop, Greg watched as Jim made his way down the hill, hands in his pocket and head to the ground, his steps heavy. Randolph came up behind him, shaking his head.

"You okay Jim?" Randolph asked, stepping back to let the detective pass.

"Wonderful," was all the response he received.

Greg watched as Randolph fell in step next to the detective, walking with back down the hillside. Turning his attention back towards the cabin, Greg bit his lip as he took a few more steps up the slope. He had been so sure…

Shaking his head Greg turned around, walking back down the path. Randolph and Neff were talking only a few feet away, joining up with Stiles. Greg made sure to avoid them, taking the path that led around the far side of town. He didn't want to admit what he had assumed; it was unheard of.

Time passed, only to cause him to worry even more. By the time he returned to the cabin the light was dwindling, and he was hopeful of what he would find. But it didn't strike him as odd to find it in the same state as he left it this morning. Pacing back and forth, Greg thought about it several times, reconsidering several different times, before turning towards the door again.

He was nearly there when it opened, a very tired looking Sara came trudging through the door, shutting it behind her.

"Sara?" Greg muttered, disbelief coursing through him.

"Hey," she said softly, pulling off the stocking cap as she shook her head, using a hand to smooth out her hair.

"Where have you been?" Greg asked, more angry now than he was worried.

"Out," Sara told him simply, not even responding to his tone as she took off her coat, hanging it up next to his. She stomped the excess snow from her boots before reaching down to loosen the laces.

"Out where?" Greg demanded, "I've been looking for you all day."

Sara glanced up at him with a frown, balancing on one leg as she worked to get her boot off. "I don't have to tell you everything Greg," she informed him.

"Something at least would be nice," Greg told her, leaning against the wall next to her, folding his arms.

"I left you a note," she responded, raising an eyebrow, finally pulling one boot off. The one thing she hated about these boots, they were so hard to get off.

"A really vague note, yes," he pointed out. "I was worried out of my mind."

"I'm touched," Sara mouthed sarcastically, her voice flattening "Really, it's not that big of a deal."

"Sara, I asked everyone if they had seen you, no one had. What was I supposed to think?"

Her gaze snapped up at him, astonishment lining her features. "You have the entire town watching me?"

"It's not like I told them to stalk you," Greg reminded her, "I just asked around. What exactly would you do?" he wondered.

"I would just wait," she told him, moving to sit down on the couch as she worked on her last boot.

"All day?"

Sara nodded shortly, "Yes, all day. Give me some credit Greg, I can take care of myself you know."

Greg shook his head, "Fine, I'm sorry I worried about you. Happy now?" he turned on his heel, making his way to the only part of the cabin where he could actually get away for a few minutes; the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, only to hear Sara groan loudly a few moments later.

"You are so difficult sometimes," she stressed.

Greg opened the door, anticipating a jibe. "Just for your information, you're not exactly a picnic either."

Sara shook her head from the couch, "Don't start Greg," she said quietly.

He frowned, leaning against the doorframe. Neither said anything for a minute, then Greg straightened up. "I'm going to bed now," he said simply, making his way over to the bed. He slid easily under the covers, not bother to change, facing the wall. He wasn't sure how long he was there, but was on the verge of falling asleep when he felt the bed move as Sara sat down on the edge.

She rubbed his shoulder gently, running her hand down the length of his arm. "Let's not fight Greg," she whispered, leaning down to give him a small peck on the cheek.

Greg didn't say anything, didn't move at all, pretending to be asleep. He didn't want to be mad at her, but he didn't want to apologize either. He still felt strongly that he was right, and pointing that out to her would only make things worse. It was best to avoid all conversation.

"Maybe I should have left a better note," she continued softly, "I really didn't think about it. I just needed some time to myself, think a few things over. I didn't mean to make you worry."

Greg sighed, already knowing that she knew he was awake. He felt her pull away some as he rolled over on to his back, his bandaged hand resting on his stomach, the other holding her hand lightly.

"Maybe I was being a jerk," he suggested, watching her. He didn't want to make things worse.

She laughed, making him smile some. Her laugh always seemed to do that. "Listen to you, do you always think everything is your fault?" she wondered.

Greg shrugged, his gaze turning up towards the ceiling. It was quiet for several minutes again; Greg had no answer for her. She scooted back some, swinging her legs on top of the bed so that they were next to his head. He scrunched his nose, turning away. "Your feet stink," he teased, throwing a pillow over them.

"Thanks," she remarked, shaking her head. She folded her arms on top of her knees, leaning forward to see him better. He had turned his head so that it was resting on top of the pillow that was covering her feet.

"We have class tomorrow," she remarked after a while, watching him still.

Greg frowned, sitting up so that they were side by side now. "You're kidding," he stated, "The cabin was blown up, not to mention it's an active crime scene. We can't work it anymore."

"We're supposed to hook up with some pair from California I guess. Stiles told me earlier this morning. All we have to do is observe, so it'll be an easy day."

Greg shook his head, "We should get the day off," he declared, "Taken in everything that's happened."

Sara laughed, nodding. "I agree, but still, I don't want to talk with Ecklie."

Greg nodded rolling his eyes. Sara laughed again, quieting down after a short moment. "I heard them talking earlier," she started, watching his expression, "Stiles, Neff and Randolph. They want to cancel the convention, send everyone home. At least Randolph does. Neff doesn't think anyone else is in danger, and Stiles doesn't want to waste the money."

"How thoughtful," Greg commented, frowning.

"Did you know that Tom help set this thing up?" Sara asked him.

Greg raised an eyebrow, "Tom…you mean our csi Tom?"

Sara nodded, "I don't know if he attended, or is attending the convention, but he helped fund it."

"Then they just happen to call him in?" Greg wondered.

Sara shrugged, "I thought it sounded funny as well, but after thinking about it, I suppose it's not so odd. He knows the place fairly well, and knows the functioning, has access to all the records...who better to send in?"

Greg nodded, seeing her point. "I guess that makes sense."

She gave him a small smile, reaching over to pat his leg. "Well, go change and let's head to bed. Class starts early."

"This is fine," Greg said, glancing down at his sweater and jeans that he was still in. "What's wrong with it?"

"You are not going to curl up to me wearing that," she informed him, laughing at the pouting look he gave her. "Go change."

"Fine," Greg finally relented after her light prompting. "Only because you insist," he added, sliding off the edge.

* * *

Groaning, Greg lifted his head, glancing at the clock as another series of knocks echoed through the cabin. It was only three in the morning, and he couldn't figure out for the life of him who exactly wanted them this early. Closing his eyes he tried to will the incessant knocking to stop, but with no such luck he knew he would have to get up.

Pushing himself up, he pulled away from Sara, moving over her carefully as to not wake her up as he stumbled in the dark, reaching for the lamp to allow some light in order to see. Stretching he made his way to the door, opening it after several long moments of trying to move the lock. A cold blast of air hit him when he swung it open, leaving him shivering as he peered out into the dark.

"Randolph?" Greg asked, shaking his head in amusement. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

The older man rolled his eyes, "Don't even get me started, I have this strange feeling that I don't get any sleep anymore." He laughed bitterly, pausing a moment before changing his tone. "There is a change of plans tomorrow. Instead of going to class the both of you need to meet me down at the Town House at ten. We need to head into Portland, the crime lab wants to get your statements."

Greg frowned, closing the door a little in a feeble attempt to block out the chill. "We already gave them our statements, what more do they want?"

Randolph only shrugged, "Don't shoot the messenger," he told him, "Just make sure to get down there on time, it'll take about an hour to get there, due to road conditions."

Greg nodded, watching him, "And you couldn't tell us when we were awake?"

"I wanted to let you know you didn't have to get up so early," Randolph confessed.

Greg raised an eyebrow, as if he were thinking. "So, you wake me up at three, to let me know I don't have to wake up until nine?" Greg nodded to himself when the detective didn't respond. "Okay…see you later today then."

Greg shut the door as he left, double checking to make certain the door was indeed locked as he made his way back to the bed, climbing back over Sara and under the covers. He stopped though when she spoke up.

"Who was it?"

Greg frowned, still halfway in a sitting position. "You were already awake and you made me answer the door?" he asked, somewhat amused.

"I didn't want to get up," Sara confessed, her voice the only thing that convinced him that she was indeed awake. She was still curled up, facing away from the wall, the covers pulled up under her chin.

"How sweet," Greg commented sarcastically, although the humor in his voice was easily heard. He pulled the covers up as he lay down, wrapping an arm around her waist as he leaned in, kissing the back of her neck.

He felt her shiver, pulling away gently. "That tickles," she mumbled, laughing softly as he did it again. "Greg, stop…" she pleaded quietly, rolling to face him. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Someone's in a good mood," Greg teased, kissing her forehead as he pushed her hair back.

She opened her eyes, watching him through narrow slits. "I'm tired," she said softly, "I haven't really slept all night, too much on my mind."

Greg nodded sympathetically, rubbing her arms. "Nightmares?" he wondered.

She gave him a small smile, shaking her head. "No, just thinking. So…who was it?"

"Randolph," Greg yawned, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against hers. "We get to go to Portland tomorrow. Need to be at the Town House at ten," he said with a yawn.

Sara nodded, sighing as she scooted closer to him, not willing to press matters further. Beside that factor, Greg was already asleep; it amazed her, how quickly he could drift off sometimes. Smiling lightly, she closed her eyes, her head resting against his, just listening to his soft breaths as she too finally fell into a deep slumber.

**TBC**


	18. Cold Evidence

**All short chapters, I know, but I got most of my stories updated. Well, three actually. Not bad for three hours of writing. **

* * *

**Cold as Ice: Cold Evidence**

They made it down to Portland in roughly 45 minutes, only to spend another half hour circling the town before finding the crime lab. Grumbling Randolph pulled up to the building, turning the car off with a sigh. "You leave for a couple of years and they move everything on you," he muttered, climbing out of the vehicle.

Sara and Greg got out on the other side, Greg had let Sara sit in front while he took the back, and they had agreed to switch on the way back. The lab here wasn't as big as back in Vegas, but it was quite bigger than the one back up on the mountain.

Greg picked up the tail end as the three walked single file inside, moving alongside everyone else. He and Sara waited near the front desk, the pair taking off their jackets. It was considerable warmer in Portland; not hot, but just warmer.

They didn't have to wait long, as the two were led into a separate enclosed room. Greg sat down next to Sara, folding his coat over the chair next to him. Sara glanced at him with a questioning look, and Greg only shrugged in response as they were joined by two other men. One they recognized as the second man who had been working the case, the other was Tom. He gave them a slight nod before sitting down.

"Thanks for coming out here, we just need to clear up a few things," Tom started out flipping through the files he had put on his desk. He pulled out a photo, placing it down for the two of them to see. It was an autopsy photo.

"You know this man?" Tom asked, indicating the picture.

Greg studied it a moment longer than Sara, before shaking his head as well. "No," he stated simply, "I don't think so."

His tone was almost withdrawn, watching the older man pick the picture up again. It was as if he expected Greg to know him.

"That's strange," the man next to Tom spoke up, "You see, we've been able to connect all these murders so far, and besides their manner of death, we have been able to make one leading connection. The other three make some sense, taking in account you were in close distance with the bodies, but this man here, Richard Stevens, you were not."

Greg shrugged dully, "I don't know a Richard Stevens," he confessed lightly. Next to him Sara agreed. Neither of them recognized the name or the man in the picture.

"You like to tell us how your DNA got on him then?"

Greg sat up some, shock lining his features. Sara had nearly the same reaction. "What?" Greg finally managed to ask.

Tom held up his hand, calming everyone down. "Your DNA is already listed in the databank; it went in there when you were hired for your jobs. We pulled several hairs off all the bodies that come up as match to the both of you. If you can explain this, then do so now."

Sara shook her head, trying to find something to say. Greg leaned forward, "Maybe we met him, shook hands with him or something. There are over three hundred people there; it is possible for us to have met him I guess. But we haven't done anything if that's what you're trying to get at."

Tom shook his head, standing, "We're not pointing any fingers, not yet. So you have nothing else to say?"

Greg shook his head, "If we think of anything, we'll help. I mean, do you actually think we could do something like that?"

"Okay, you're free to go for now," Tom waved him off, nodding for the other man to follow him.

Sara turned back to Greg, her expression matching his, one of bewilderment. "What exactly is going on?" she wondered. Greg could only shrug, his gaze catching Randolph's, who was waiting for them out in the hallway.

The got up, moving at a slower rate than before, meeting Randolph just outside the door. They needn't say anything, Randolph had heard everything, and all he could do was offer up a small word of comfort. He agreed with Greg, they had probably met him before, a secondary transfer; the hairs were probably caught on his clothing.

Still Greg and Sara were sickened, worried, angry even. It was as if they were being toyed with, and there was nothing they could do about it. Randolph paused before getting in the car, his eyes drifting around the area. He turned back to the two, already in the car he had to duck his head inside.

"You two desperate to get back to camp?" he asked.

Greg shrugged mildly, leaning against the window. Sara glanced up at him, "Why?"

"I know the area pretty well, we could do some sight seeing. The ocean's not too far away."

Sara nodded slowly after a moment. Randolph was offering them a way out. Going back to camp would only end with them staying in their cabin all day, unable to sleep or eat, or doing anything else more. "Sure, sounds like fun."

Greg agreed mutely, knowing that it probably was the smartest thing to do, but not really feeling up to it as Randolph climbed inside, starting the car up.

* * *

Greg grimaced as he stepped outside, the wind nearly pushing him back. It was chiller out here than it was in town, but still not cold enough to pull his jacket back on. Sara came up behind him, squinting into the wind as well.

Greg followed her gaze, grinning lightly. "It's been a few years since I've seen the ocean," Greg told her, his voice louder than normal so that she could hear him. Sara nodded in agreement, before following Randolph's retreating form.

Greg had only taken a few steps before pausing, reading the sign they were passing. Quickly he ran to catch up with the others, descending down the sandy trail. "You do know this is a private beach, right?" Greg asked, taking his steps carefully.

Randolph nodded, still walking, making his way around the bend. "Yeah, my grandfather owned it, he ran the lighthouse over here," Randolph indicated with a turn of his head. Greg followed them around the corner, letting out a small sigh of relief as the wind died down drastically once behind the large rock formation.

Randolph pointed down the beach some ways to where the lighthouse stood, the paint worn down by the wind and spray of the sea. "I grew up in Oregon," Randolph explained quietly, starting to make his way towards it once again. "During the summer I'd come and stay with him, help him run it, until he was shut down. Ships don't cross through here anymore; aside from the factor they use all those fancy electrical lighthouses now. Spent half my childhood here."

Greg and Sara nodded as they came up along side the tall tower, both of them tracing the long column with their eyes as Randolph pulled his keys out, looking through several before choosing an older looking key. The locks clunked open, the door groaning as it swung open, making it quite obvious it hadn't been opened in some time.

Randolph led the way, Sara following shortly behind and Greg bringing up the rear. It was an odd smell, a mixture of an older essence and one of salt, which in reality wasn't all that surprising. The spiral stair case led them up slowly, higher and higher, and Greg couldn't help but stop to take a peek over the side to see how high they were.

Heights had never really bothered Greg; as long as you were secure, he had little problem. His stop had put him behind the others, and he had to hurry along in order to catch up. They reached the top in not too much longer.

The view up here was amazing, you could see for quite a distance. Ahead of them the waves crashed against the rocks, the waves rolling into each other. Greg shook his head lightly; he had forgotten how amazing the ocean could be sometimes. They stayed up there for sometime; watching the ocean first before heading back down, after Randolph showed them how everything worked.

Greg stayed behind, talking with Randolph as he locked the old lighthouse back up, as Sara walked down closer to the water, slipping off her shoes and socks and rolling up her pant legs, strolling along the surf.

Greg watched her for a while, sitting down in the sand, laughing softly as watched her outrun a few of the bigger waves. It was amazing sometimes, the things that kept people occupied for so long. He was tempted to join her, but his mind was still occupied by the findings earlier today. After all, evidence didn't lie, but what if you knew the evidence was wrong? He sighed, rubbing his forehead before turning his attention back to the Ocean.

Sara had been out there for quite a while, before coming back up, kicking the sand lightly at him, laughing as she sat down next to him. Ahead the sun was sinking lower and lower into the sky, as day ventured into the afternoon hours.

Greg shook his head, wiping the sand off his sweater, laughing at her. "You're wet," he teased lightly.

Sara smiled sheepishly, looking down at her pants. "I fell," she said simply, leaning against Greg.

He laughed again, wrapping an arm around her, "I noticed. You are definitely taking a shower tonight. There is no way you are dragging all that sand into bed with us."

"Why not?" she joked softly.

Greg rolled his eyes, "Look at the one who didn't want to sleep next to someone with jeans on."

They turned their attention back as Randolph came up next to him, shaking his head lightly. "We need to get going, I don't want to drive those roads in the dark," he glanced at the setting sun. "We'll be lucky if it's still light out by the time we get back."

Greg nodded, turning back to watch the water a moment longer before climbing to his feet, pulling Sara up after him shortly after. He was glad they had come, and slightly upset they hadn't spent more time here.

**TBC**


	19. Betrayal

**Another real quick post and run, I will try and get R2R out next chapter. This chapter is too all my wonderful readers/reviewers. The story is starting to come to a close now. :D**

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**Chapter Nineteen: Betrayal **

It was dark by the time they got back, Randolph pulled up the mountainside as far as the roads would allow, pulling to the bottom of the trail that led up to the camp. The area was poorly lit, the first few rims of lights above the hill, being blocked mainly by all the trees. The snow provided a little light, but not enough to really see by. All of them were tired by the day's events, and even though it was shortly past seven, it felt much later. And it was for this reason that none of them saw the car that pulled in after them, moving slowly, without its lights on.

Sara and Greg followed Randolph up the hill at a slower rate, but soon found themselves all traveling at a different speeds, without a word said between them. Greg kept his eyes trained ahead of him, as he took carefully placed steps up the side, the trail already covered in a thin sheet of ice, making it a difficult walk up. Above him, he could see Randolph come to a stop, turning back towards them, as if he was waiting for them.

Gunfire suddenly erupted past him, dropping Greg to his knees as the unforgettable sound rushed past him. It took him a moment to realize that the firing was not aimed at him, but past him, and Greg found himself watching in shock as Randolph fell face first into the snow.

He sat numbed until Sara's voice brought him back to his senses; she was able to manage a short scream before it was muffled. Pushing himself to his feet, Greg wasted no time in getting to her side, unsurprised to find someone wrestling her to the ground, a cloth pressed against her mouth and nose.

Tackling the unknown assailant from behind, Greg was able to knock the person free of Sara, allowing her to scramble away, coughing violently as she did so. He didn't have any time to check on her however, as the assailant turned his attention on him, throwing him off easily.

Greg found himself pressed on his back into the snow, a pair of hands wrapping around his neck, squeezing painfully tight, cutting of his air. At first, Greg latched onto the other person's wrists, trying to throw them off, but with little luck, and each passing moment it became harder to do anything, with the lack of air. Kicking out with his legs, and reaching up further with his arms, Greg was finally able to push the attacker off just enough to get free of his hold, taking in a broken breath as he tried to get back to his feet.

It wasn't enough to get him up however, as Greg found himself knocked back down, the hands starting to wrap back around his throat. This time he was quicker, grabbing a hold of the assailant's wrists as he threw all his weight forward, knocking him completely off. Now free, Greg scrambled to his feet, slipping several times as he tried to turn himself around in a feeble attempt to spot their attacker, but whoever it was, they were wearing dark clothing, and a mask, making them hard to see.

Greg was knocked down from behind, his hands breaking his fall, but a blow to the back of his head dropped him the rest of the way. Shaking his head to clear, he was surprised a second blow didn't come, that was until he heard Sara cry out, realizing she had stopped the expected strike.

Turning around, Greg was able to see Sara fall backwards, landing in the snow and not moving. He called out her name, but didn't get a chance to wait for a response as he was attacked again, this time Greg was ready for it. He ducked under the first swing, grabbing the person by the legs, dropping them flat in the snow, already moving to hold his hands down, but the tables were turned as the assailant swung his legs around, effectively hitting him in the head.

He could see stars then, as his vision wavered. It gave his attacker enough time to take control of the situation, and Greg grimaced as his broken hand was grabbed roughly, and twisted painfully behind his back. He cried out at the pressure, reaching up with his free hand to maintain a hold on the other person, his fingers grasping the hood that covered his face, and pulling it off in one swift movement.

Greg shook his head lightly in denial, his breath little more than a short gasp as he saw who it was. His struggles were cut off however as a gun came to rest on the back of his neck, pressing against his bare skin forcefully.

"That," the other man said, "was a mistake."

Closing his eyes, Greg tried to calm his short, rapid breaths, still processing everything that was happening. It didn't seem real, but the cold metal pressed against his skin said otherwise.

"Let him go," another rough voice enticed Greg to open his eyes once again. Randolph stood not to far away, bent over slightly, but holding his own gun with both hands, level with their attacker.

"I've come too far to do that," the other man argued; his voice was shallow, withdrawn even, not angry or frantic as Greg expected him to be.

Randolph blinked, watching him for a moment, still holding his gun tightly. It was evident that he was in pain, his face tight. Greg could tell that even in the dim lighting. "You were behind all of this? Why? You're a CSI Tom, you know better than this," Randolph started, his voice still heavy.

"Don't you dare start berating me, just because you carry a badge," Tom warned him, twisting Greg's hand as his grip tightened as if to make his point clear. Greg grimaced again, gritting his teeth against the pain as the bones moved against each other, still not having healed.

Tom shook his head slowly, "I've carried a gun longer than you have, this is my life, and it's what's been my life ever since I was young. I was so close to being promoted to a detective rank, you have no idea how close. Then they get a new head in the department, and do you know what they did? They choose a low life newbie over me. I've worked for that position for years and they took it away from me, not only that, I feel down to the bottom line again, working easy cases. Cases that would never get me noticed, and I knew right then and there I'd never have a chance to work a career case, one that would boost me to the top."

In the time Tom was ranting, Randolph had lowered his gun, only to realize what he was doing and raise it back up during this last pause. He was tempted to say something, but didn't have the chance as Tom started back up again.

"I knew I wouldn't have a chance unless I created the opportunity. Something that seemed easy, but in turn would make the headlines. I worked on this for so long now, and when I was signed on to help run this convention, I knew it was the perfect opportunity."

Randolph took a step forward, then another, hoping that Tom wouldn't notice, too occupied in his ranting, but he was wrong, coming to a stop as Tom twisted Greg's hand once more, causing another pained cry from the young man.

"He's not part of this," Randolph told him quietly, "Just let him go."

Tom laughed softly, "But he is a part of this, he's the final piece in my plan, the scapegoat, the one to blame. Everything would have worked out better, if I had more time. But they were moving me off the case tomorrow, handing it over to someone with more, experience. I had it all worked out, a couple's twisted definition of fun, copycatting the murders of an old killer who got away. Then, when I was onto them, he would freak out, kill the girl in the same manner, then himself. It was perfect, no witnesses. But plans change."

He drew a deep breath, glancing around, as if contempt before facing the other detective. Randolph had not moved from his spot, but his breathing was coming in faster and deeper breaths. Greg could only guess that he had been hit quite badly, possibly fatally if he didn't get help soon.

"You see, with time being pressed, I had to act tonight. So the story would now be that Greg here, killed you when you interfered in his plans. Then he would kill the girl, then finally himself. I slipped up though, didn't think about them fighting back, but everything will work out."

Greg could do little more than listen during all this time, so it was a surprise to feel himself being pulled up, nearly dragged into a standing position, the barrel of the gun still pressed tightly against the back of his neck.

"We're going to go for a walk now," Tom said; he still had a forceful grip on his broken hand, and he gave it a small squeeze as a reminder. Greg bit his lip as he stumbled backwards as Tom pulled on the hood of his coat. "It would be wise not to follow; I will kill him if you do."

Randolph didn't make a move, the last thing Greg saw on his face was regret, before being forced to turn around, now leading the way through the darkness, his heart already racing as old fears came back to haunt him.

Randolph watched them leave, wanting to follow, but remembering the warning that was last said, and at that moment, he couldn't move. Both from the pain he was in, but more from the shock. In everything, Tom was the last person he expected, and now, he wasn't sure what to do. Even if he could catch up with them, risking a shot was too dangerous, there was no sure way to tell who was who, and not only that, Tom was making certain to keep Greg as close as possible, knowing that was his only protection against gunfire.

Cursing lightly, Randolph stumbled over to where Sara lay, dropping to one knee as he felt for her pulse, slight worried he wouldn't be able to get back to his feet. He was grateful to find a pulse, but worried just the same, for in the dim lighting he could see that a great deal of blood had coated her face, a large gash covering her forehead. Pressing a hand against the cut, Randolph used his other free hand to cover his own wounds, grimacing at the contact. The question now lie in not what to do, but in what could be done.

**TBC**


	20. Breaking the Ice

**Chapter Twenty: Breaking the Ice**

They had been walking for near ten minutes now, going deeper into the forest, the ground reaching an incline. Greg ducked his head as he was pushed under several thick branches, his hand out in front of him; that way he knew what was just ahead of him. At the moment, it was the only way he really knew where they were going, not that he knew the final destination Tom had planned for him.

"You know," Greg spoke up, his voice a bit shaken, as he was aware that the other man still had the gun pressed against the base of his neck, the other hand firmly entwined in his hood. "This isn't the best of ideas."

"Shut up," Tom warned him, shoving him forward for good measure.

Greg stumbled, but was able to get his feet under him again, not resisting against the quick pace the other had chosen. "We can't even see where we are going," Greg pointed out, bringing his hand up again.

"That's why you're leading," Tom answered. "You've messed up enough things already."

Rolling his eyes, Greg sighed, stumbling again as he his feet found a small dip in the ground. The only thing that kept him on his feet that time was a forceful yank from Tom on his hood. Scowling, Greg turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Well, I'm sorry I wasn't willing to die."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Tom told him, "You have no idea how much work you've ruined. I had everything set in place, if only I hadn't been rushed."

Greg grimaced as a branch caught him on the head, prompting him to duck again as they pushed their way past several more trees. "Shouldn't you be mad at your supervisors then?" Greg wondered, rubbing his head gingerly.

"Maybe, but honestly, when they go over trials, who are they going to believe? I'm nothing to them, and I never would be unless they let me actually try. But no, they never did. I never actually planned for you to be the one to take the fall, it sort of happened that way."

"Lucky me," Greg muttered, shaking his head, before frowning. "Wait a minute…it was you who cut the power that night, wasn't it? That's how our hairs ended up on the db's, you were the one in our cabin."

Tom laughed shortly, "Smart, you are smart."

"I didn't think of it earlier, it was easy enough, provide a distraction, you have the keys to this place."

"I wasn't sure what to take at first, all I needed was something with both your DNA on it, and I only found one brush in the bathroom, it was a fair enough guess."

"I forgot to pack one," Greg muttered. He and Sara had just bought a new one after finding it missing, not even thinking about it. Now he wished that he had.

"Keep walking," Tom snapped, pushing him forward again.

"Like I said before," Greg shot back, "This isn't the safest idea. Do you have any idea where this goes?"

"No, but I'll wager we'll find out tonight, what do you think?" Tom laughed, coming to a stop.

Greg was thankful for the rest, although it was eerie. It was oddly quiet, only the rustling of the heavy branches in the light wind, along with their own, heavy breathing could be heard. In the distance, the howling of a wolf could be heard, causing Greg to shudder lightly. This was too much like a horror movie, and they were in the pause right before the bad thing happened to the good people.

"It sounds like we've left our friends behind," Tom commented softly, taking a step back. Greg felt the gun leave his neck, felt the hold on his coat disappear. He didn't need a second invitation.

Swinging around, Greg clenched his good hand into a fist, grimacing at the hollow sound that followed as soon as he hit him, pain flooding down his hand and into his arm. He waved his hand briskly in the night air, even as he lunged towards Tom, knocking the surprised man down.

In his mind at that moment, Greg knew he had to get a hold of the gun. He knew that if Tom got a good enough grip on it, good enough to pull the trigger, there was little chance that he would miss his intended target.

The only problem was that Tom was strong, a lot stronger than Greg had given him credit for. When he had first seen Tom, the man appeared lanky, but there seemed to be a hidden strength in him, something that was a downfall for Greg.

He had expected him to fight back, and he wasn't disappointed. He had expected Tom to overpower him, had expected the gun to fire. What he hadn't expected was the fall. During their struggles, they had found the other end of the incline. A precipice. One second the ground was there, and the next, they found themselves tumbling down what seemed like an endless drop.

The snow impacted their rapid descent for the most part, but Greg was certain he had caught a few rocks on the way down. He landed hard at the bottom, still sliding a ways before coming to a complete stop. Groaning he laid his head down on the cold terrain for a short minute, before his senses kicked in.

Raising his head, a bit confused now, Greg tried to push himself up, only to slip again. This wasn't right, he thought dimly. The ground was way too hard, too cold, and too slick to be snow. He let out a long breath, realizing that they were no longer on solid ground, but on ice, more in likely a frozen lake or pond. Whatever the case, Greg knew they had to get off, and get off soon, he could hear the ice already cracking under his weight.

He had no idea where Tom was at the moment; he could neither see nor hear the man. Moving his weight carefully, Greg was able to get to his hands and knees. Below him, he could see the faint shimmer of the ice from the light of the moon, allowing him to see a faint reflection of himself.

He was knocked down, Tom tackling him at the mid section, the blow unexpected. Greg landed hard on his side, already moving to get a hold on the other man. He still had the gun, as it fired wildly into the air several different times. Swinging his legs around, Greg kicked out at him, throwing his hand out behind him to break his fall.

Only the ice didn't stop his awkward landing. The icy water stung his arm through the layers of clothing, sending a chill down his spine as he heard the ice break even more. He pulled his arm free, raising his hands to stop the other man as he charged; trying to warn him, but it was already too late, as the ice gave way beneath the both of them.

It felt as though his entire body had gone into shock, and for a moment, Greg panicked, trying to draw in a deep breath but only succeeding in choking on a mouthful of water. His head broke the surface, coughing and spitting he managed to take in a breath.

The water stung his entire body, but even more so around his neck and face, where he didn't have any protection at all. Shivering fiercely now, and bobbing only a few inches away from the edge of more ice, Greg reached out, trying to grab a hold of the ice, only to have it break under his weight, weak now from the original break.

Suddenly he was pulled under the water again, something was dragging him down. Not something, but someone. Pushing away, Greg's head broke the surface at the same time as Tom's, both men gasping loudly, flailing in the open circled rim of ice.

Before Greg could react, Tom grabbed a hold of him again, pushing him under the surface as he tried to climb out of the frozen water. Struggling under him, Greg tried to push his way to the surface again, his lungs already burning due to the simple fact he had not gotten enough air before being pushed under. Finally able to throw him off, Greg drew in several long draughts of air, shaking his head as in hopes to clear the water from his eyes.

He was able to get a longer breath this time, before Tom had another hold of him, pushing him back down. Greg knew that if he didn't do something soon, he would drown before long. The chilly waters already zapping him of his strength, he wouldn't have much more energy to fight back.

He pushed his way back up again, breaking free of Tom's hold as he tried to surface. He was dully surprised when he came just short though, his head hitting the bottom of the ice. Somehow he had moved away from the opening.

Panicked now, Greg reached up with his hands, feeling his way along in hopes of finding the opening, never straying to far from his original location in fear of only moving away further. It seemed like hours, but in reality could be no more than a stretch of long seconds, as Greg's lungs began to burn once again, begging for a breath that wasn't there.

His movements became slower, more lethargic as the cold continued to bite into him, making him lose sense of time and reality, as he closed his eyes, already breathing in the icy water as everything slowly began to fade away.

**TBC…**


	21. Reality

**There prb is only one more chapter after this. There is a sequel to follow though, more on that next chapter.**

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**Chapter Twenty-One: Reality **

He didn't remember very much. He remembered being cold; trapped somewhere in the dark, the cold stinging his face, his hands, his feet…his entire body hurt. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, not rationally anyway. The surface was just a few feet away, but he couldn't reach it, the single thought nagging him in the back of his mind.

Then the water was moving over him, pulling him away. He fought against it at first, struggling weakly, the water weighing him down. It was then he realized that it wasn't the water moving, but he himself was.

In the next moment his head broke the surface. Greg drew in a deep ragged breath, coughing and spiting at the same time, as his stomach heaved. He could hear people talking, shouting even, as the rest of his body was pulled from the water.

After that, everything became faint, reality mixed in with dream. So much in fact that he couldn't distinguish what was what. It had felt as though he had closed his eyes for only a minute, in an effort to clear out his head. When he opened them again, he could have sworn he was dreaming.

At first he could move, or at least that's what it felt like, his eyes blinking in the light. He was lying on a bed, wrapped in several heavy blankets, tucked clear in around his neck and over his head, leaving only his face exposed. As far as he could see, he was alone, and that thought frightened him.

Reaching up with an arm he pushed the edge of the blanket away from his head in order to get a better glance at his surroundings. A quiet voice alerted him that he wasn't alone, his attention being drawn towards the corner of the room.

Sara was standing near a closed door, her back facing him, a phone pressed against her ear. "His fever broke a few hours ago, the doctor says there shouldn't be any problems, he's been sleeping since," she said quietly, turning around to face him now. Her expression softened as their eyes met for a brief moment, and she turned away slightly.

"I'm going to call you back later, he just woke up," she finished, moving to hang up the phone.

She turned back to him, walking over at an easy pace, sitting down on the side of bed next to him. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, reaching out with a hand.

Greg closed his eyes as her fingers ran along his forehead, "A little confused actually…what happened?"

"What do you remember?" Sara asked him, moving aside as Greg rolled on his back, rubbing his head gently.

Greg let out a little laugh, opening his eyes, "I'm still trying to figure out if this is real or not." His expression narrowed however as he saw the dark bruises that outlined her face. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling at the same time. "Yeah, a few bumps, a few bruises. I'm okay, worried about you. If you wanted to go swimming we could have gone to Hawaii you know."

Greg laughed, yawning, "You know me, always looking for adventure," he glanced around the place again. "Where are we exactly?"

"At the town house, I told them I could keep an eye on you at our cabin, but they wanted to make sure you were okay. You fell asleep about an hour after Neff pulled you out of the water, but you were really out of it."

Greg blinked a few times, processing the information just given to him. "Neff pulled me out? I thought the guy hated me."

"Misunderstood, not hated, something that's not too difficult with you," Sara teased him lightly, feeling better now that Greg was sounding like himself.

Greg nodded, fighting off another yawn. "What about the others?"

"Randolph's down in Portland at the hospital, but he's supposed to be okay, they wont release any details, we're not family. Tom's down in ICU, they don't know if he'll make it or not. If he does, we'll have to come back up here for the trial."

Greg sighed, shaking his head, "If?"

"He was in the water a lot longer than you were," Sara explained to him, "you were lucky."

"You were talking to Grissom weren't you?" Greg asked suddenly, switching the conversation.

Sara nodded, "He wants to know if we want to come back early. I told him we would wait; we only have four days left. Give us enough time to rest up, get better, bruises to fade," she mentioned, touching her face gingerly.

"What?" Greg wondered, "You don't want to return to Vegas looking like you've been beaten to a pulp?"

"No," Sara told him shortly, her smile flat if there was one at all. "I'm going to get the doctor, and then we can get back to our own cabin so I can get some sleep."

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It had been pointless to stay the last four days. The two had not attended any classes, and barely left the cabin during that time. The doctor there had let the two return to their cabin after checking Greg over one last time, double-checking that the bones in his hand were set just right. They would take longer to heal now, and Greg found them hurting worse than they had before.

The day they were supposed to leave, they spent most of the morning packing things up, and cleaning the cabin. Greg rubbed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his suitcase, sitting down on the already made bed.

He had come down with a cold within the last day, something that didn't surprise him. They were going to leave early, that way they could stop by and see Randolph. The doctors would release no further information on his condition, and they had been left with only the promise that he would recover.

Greg glanced up as Sara came out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. "That's everything, I think," she told him, dropping her own bag on top of his. "We should get going here soon."

Greg nodded in agreement, but instead of standing, grabbed her hand as she started to pull away. "Let's get breakfast first," he told her, "I'm hungry, and it'll give us a chance to stretch our legs before we get stuck in the car."

Sara laughed, coming back to sit next to him. "It's not that long of a drive to Portland," she smiled.

"It's the one from Portland to Vegas that has me worried," he muttered, shaking his head.

"We're not doing a straight drive," Sara answered, continuing before Greg had a chance to argue. "You're sick, and you have only one useable hand at the moment, so there is no way that you're driving. And if you think I'm making that drive in one shot, you're crazy."

"I can drive one handed," Greg protested, sitting up.

Sara shook her head, "I'm driving, that's final."

Greg frowned, staring up at her as she stood. "I still want breakfast," he complained.

She laughed, holding her hand out to help him up to his feet. "We'll still get breakfast," she rolled her eyes, already pulling her coat on. "Not very long though," she warned him. "I want to get on the road."

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The diner was still busy even though today was the day everyone was supposed to head home. It was advised to do so before dark, since the roads that led up to the mountain were often frozen at night. Sara and Greg had to wait roughly forty minutes before a table opened up, and by then, Sara was hungry as well. After ordering, Sara left to the restroom, leaving Greg by himself. However, he wasn't alone for long.

He glanced up as someone approached, nodding at him to join when he asked. Greg let his napkin drop back down on the table, folded and creased in several spots as he had been trying to fold something, but it wasn't working all that well due to the simple fact he couldn't use his one hand very much.

"I heard you pulled me out of the water," Greg said lightly, looking up at him.

Neff nodded, folding his hands on top of the table. "Yeah, when I heard the gun the fire, and found Randolph and Sidle…Randolph pointed me off in the direction you two disappeared. I radioed for help; it wasn't that hard to find both of you. Left a pretty messy trail."

Greg nodded shortly, "I tried, didn't think anyone would find it. I couldn't even see what I left behind."

"Broken branches, scuff marks in the snow. It was easy enough to follow with a flashlight," Neff grew silent for a minute before continuing. "I wanted to apologize, for earlier. What I said, it was out of line. I'm sorry."

Greg shook his head, "You're just doing your job. I mean, we do it all the time, we listen to the evidence, but sometimes we let ourselves get ahead of the information. Then we make a mistake, we're human."

Neff agreed silently. "True, but not all mistakes can be fixed."

"Trust me," Greg gave him a smile, "this one can. And thanks, for what you did."

Neff shook his head as he stood up slowly. "I'm just doing my job," he told him quietly. "You take care, the both of you, take care."

Greg watched him go, thinking quietly about what he had said. His initial tone towards him had changed, sure enough, but still he wasn't sure if he favored the detective. It would be good to get back home; he was looking forward to it.

**TBC**


	22. Heading Home

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Heading Home**

They reached the hospital by ten that morning. Finding any information about the detective had been difficult since they were not family, and they were not on the contact list either. Finally, Sara had pressed the rules some by telling the staff they were CSI agents, looking to talk with him. Greg had to laugh at her persistence, but it finally paid off.

The detective had been awake, and Randolph had been glad to see the both of them. Apparently no one had told him anything, and so they spent the better part of an hour relating to all the happenings of the past few days.

Randolph himself was doing relatively better, but not without cost. He had been shot twice, once in the lower stomach, the other had penetrated his deep in his left leg, and in order to prevent infection, he had lost everything from the knee down.

He waved off their concerns, telling them that it didn't matter. Although they had trouble seeing how it didn't. It took some time to convince them too. Randolph explained that he was going to be transferred to Boston in a few months; this way he could retire, and stay near his family. He added that he was getting to old for the job anyways.

They spent the next several hours there, talking just in general, before Greg reminded Sara they needed to get going if they were going to make in anywhere that day. With a final goodbye said, they were on their way.

They stuck to their original plan and only drove a few hours each day, and made it back to Las Vegas on the fourth night. Neither had ever been so glad to see the workplace. The temperature change was noticeably different, even at night it was still warmer than it had been during the day.

Greg reached around to open the back door so that they could get their stuff, but was stopped as Sara grabbed his arm, pulling him away gently. He couldn't help smiling as he saw her expression as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him.

This time he pulled away, laughing at her confused expression. "You're going to get sick doing that," he warned. He was rewarded with a laugh of her own.

"I'm already sick Greg," she told him, moving back in. Greg held her close as the kiss lengthened, and neither of them heard someone else approaching. They weren't even aware that they were being watched until a slight cough alerted them. Greg looked up quickly as Sara turned around, her arms still around Greg.

"Well now," the person chuckled lightly, "I've heard of kiss and make up, but isn't this getting a little extreme?"

Greg was grinning from ear to ear as Sara pulled back hesitantly, blushing as she turned away.

"Hi Nick," Greg nodded to him, looking back to Sara who had a hand pressed against her face as she laughed quietly, still embarrassed about being caught.

Nick shook his head, smiling at the pair. "I must say it's good to see you two alive and in one piece," he nodded to them. "Both of you had quite a time, or so I hear. Getting into fights, blowing up houses, going on leisurely swims."

Greg's smile was smug as he answered. "Isn't it a little late for you to be here?"

Nick shrugged, kicking the concrete with the toe of his shoe. "Work, you know how that goes."

Greg nodded in sympathy. Yes, he knew how work was, and it had to be even worse considering that they had been gone. For the last several weeks now, the swing shift had to pick up on all the slack that night shift left behind. With them back now, things shouldn't be as bad.

When nothing was said and the silence stretched on, Nick motioned towards the building, wondering if they were to follow. Sara protested immediately.

"I am so ready to go home," she told him, "I miss my own place."

"No, no," Nick shook his head, "You're coming in. If the rest of the team hears I talked to you and just let you leave, they would never let me hear the end of it."

Greg shrugged, glancing up at Sara. He wasn't looking forward to staying much longer either, but he also wasn't looking forward to leaving Sara quite yet either. He had to admit he would miss being with her as much as he had within the last few weeks.

"Come on Sara, a few minutes couldn't hurt."

* * *

Sara glared up at Greg from across the table. The single thing he said earlier running through her mind. _A few minutes couldn't hurt. _And it was true, a few minutes wasn't anything big. However, a few hours, was a different matter.

They had only gotten into the lab before Catherine and Nick had invited them out for a quick lunch. Sara once again tried to say no in the politest way possible, but Greg had jumped in once again. Now she was tired, cranky and irritated. A combination that was nothing short of lethal in her case.

The worst part about it was that Greg wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her. Ever since arriving at the small café, he and Nick had been talking nonstop, their attention turned on the TV screen. She shook her head, brining the coffee cup up to her lips, taking a sip of the warming liquid.

"Oh man," Nick laughed, patting Greg on the back, "My team just scored, you are going down."

Greg shook his head, "No way, you're seeing things," he argued, squinting as he tried to see the score better.

"You owe me ten bucks man," Nick laughed, holding his hand out towards him. "Cough it up."

"I say we take a better look at that score," Greg pushed him off, already on his way over to the counter. Nick wasn't too far behind.

Sara could only roll her eyes as she put her cup down, laughing as Catherine commented next to her. "Men."

"One track minds," she agreed lightly. "I guess three weeks in the mountains was too much for Greg, he needs to expression his manliness."

"How?" Catherine laughed, "By fighting immaturely over a sports score?"

Sara shrugged, watching them from afar.

"So, are you and Greg actually…I mean," Catherine paused, frowning as she wasn't sure what to say exactly.

Sara smiled, nodding after a moment. It wouldn't do any good to hide it, everyone would find out sooner or later, and with Nick already knowing, it more and likely would be sooner. "Yeah, we are."

"How long now?"

Sara shrugged, her eyes still on Greg. "Officially…a few weeks now, but we've been talking about it for a while."

Catherine nodded, turning towards her. "Well, I'm happy for you two," she told her. "I don't know about you, but I've got to get back to lab," she pulled a few bills out of her purse, tossing them on the table as she got up. "Come on Nicky, let's get."

Sara watched as Nick patted Greg one last time on the back, collecting the promised money as he ran to catch up with Catherine, Sara and Greg weren't too far behind.

* * *

Sara let out a sigh as she glanced over the folders, doing her best to try to catch up with everything. Missing three weeks of work was hard in any case, and the simple fact that they didn't learn a thing while they were gone was a downside.

At the moment, she was trying to find out what case they were working on now. Using a free hand, she pushed her hair from her eyes, sighing as she sat down on the table.

"You okay?"

She glanced up smiling as Grissom came into the room. Ever since they got back a few days ago, Grissom had been slightly overprotective of them. Not that she could blame him. She knew he felt pretty bad about making them go, feeling guilty for everything, despite the fact Greg and Sara had told him that it was okay.

"Yeah," she told him quietly, turning her attention back on the papers. The bruising was still evident, but it had faded considerably. She hadn't told Grissom this; he was already feeling bad enough.

"You sure?" he pressed her a little, watching her as he sat down.

Sara stared at him for a minute, before giving him a comforting smile. "Yeah, I'm good. For the first time in nearly a month I'm not freezing my ass off."

She laughed to lighten the mood, and it worked, but only a little.

"If you need a few days off, you can take them," Grissom told her, nodding.

"I'm fine," she responded, "really. It's okay."

Grissom nodded, "I heard you turned down the request to go back out into the field."

She smiled grimly, now knowing the reasoning behind his actions. "Yeah…um, I wasn't as ready as I thought I was," she told him quietly.

He nodded, accepting her answer. "Take all the time you need," he told her, standing up slowly.

He moved to say something else, but was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Grissom looked up to see Greg standing there, resting against the frame lightly.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" he asked quietly. When Grissom and Sara shook their heads, he came further in the room.

"Uh, Greg," Grissom nodded at him. "I saw that you also turned down the request to move back out into the field."

Greg nodded, his hands in his pockets as he ignored the astonished look from Sara. "I know, I figured I'd wait for a while longer. I need to catch up on a few things, and with my hand right now, I'd rather be a little more prepared."

Grissom nodded, tucking the file folders under his arm. "Okay, then, when you two are ready then, don't hesitate to come forward and ask."

Sara nodded at him, watching as he left the room. Greg leaned over the table, glancing at the forms that she had laid over the tabletop. "Having fun?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Kind of confused actually."

"Hmm," Greg rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You want to discuss it over break?"

Sara smiled as she glanced up at him. "Completely work related, right?"

Greg matched her grin, "Of course, what else would we be focusing on?"

She laughed softly as she walked past him. "I could think of a few things."

**The End**

* * *

**R2R**

**Mellaithwen-**

The scream was Neff himself, I wanted to add a part to that, but decided against it. I wasn't able to fit it in very well, so I took it out. Lol, I love your response, it's so you. Although that may have been a little too much for poor old Randolph.

**Jenny70529-**

Yeah, I've stopped torturing Greg, for now at least. And there is a sequel, but it prb will be coming slower. I'm glad you enjoy my writing so much, as I do yours!

**Lizzy**** Sidle-**

Noticed the name change there, any reasoning? Of course Greg is okay, I'd never hurt him…too bad anyways.

**LuvinNickyStokes-**

Hehe, Like I say before, I'd never hurt him too bad. And there is a sequel, so there will be more angst on it's way, of course.

**Unlikely-to-bear-it-**

Love the enthusiasm! And the sequel will come in due time. No worries.

**And**** various thanks to everyone else who reviewed, you guys really do make my day!**

* * *

**The Sequel will start posting soon, but more and likely at a slower rate than this was.**** Here's a short snippet of info on what it will be about.**

**Summer Rains**

**An accident leaves Greg struggling to remember who he once was as well as where he belongs in the world around him as the rest of the CSI team works together to stop a deadly serial killer before they lose one of their own.**


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